


A Piece Of You

by Rising_Phoenix



Category: Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom, Homeland
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Blackmail, Blackmailed for sex, But consent it is, Club Owner Nigel, Dubious Consent, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sex, Extremely Dubious Consent, Gay Sex, Hannibal Extended Universe, Heu, Homedogs, John is such a little slutty slut for Nigel, M/M, Pegging, Political Advisor John, Prostitution, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Coercion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:15:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 50,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23263831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rising_Phoenix/pseuds/Rising_Phoenix
Summary: After a night in the wrong club John Zabel finds himself being blackmailed by criminal Nigel Ibanescu, and despite being forced into doing political favors for him and being blackmailed into a sexual relationship, John soon finds himself strangely attracted to the other man. A relationship that endangers everything John has worked for all his life...Author's Note:Again, John is blackmailed by Nigel in this story to have sex with him but consents, please consider this when choosing to read the story.
Relationships: Nigel/John Zabel
Comments: 286
Kudos: 105





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even watch Homeland, but the idea of career politician John and our beloved foulmouthed criminal Nigel sparring against each other was too tempting to resist, so I came up with the idea for this AU. This takes place a few years after Nigel's "death", without putting anything that happens in Homeland into consideration.
> 
> Enjoy!

This night had started out as a catastrophe and it held the promise to continue to do so.

John had taken the three Arabian men that were part of the Secretary of State was in negotiations with already to three bars, and they had started to complain in the second one that the night was boring and even their home town in the Middle East held during Ramadan more entertainment in the evening hours than this. Which was bad. Very bad.

He knew that not only the outcome of the negotiations were important to the country, he also was aware that his own job and career were dependent on how cared for these men felt and it was his duty to provide that for them.

Sighing, he pulled his phone out and stepped a little away from the three men who were talking to each other, mostly ignoring him anyway, while the night air was chill and his breath formed little clouds in front of his face.

Hank took the call after the sixth ring, when John had already been ready to hang up, and sounded annoyed when he asked him what the fuck he wanted from him at this hour.

“I need some intel,” John said. “I took them to three of the best bars already, and they are the worst children I had ever to care for.”

“If you ever took care of children I’m eating my hat,” Hank said. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know what to do with them, Hank,” he admitted.

Hank laughed. The fucker seriously laughed.

“The great and flawless John Zabel admits to be at a loss?” Hank still laughed. “I’ll have to mark this day in my calendar, maybe we can make it a public holiday.”

John closed his eyes and rubbed a hand over his face.

“I mean it, Hank,” he said, hating to have to admit this. “I need your help. I’ll owe you one.”

Hank seemed to think, not saying anything for a few seconds.

“Then take them to a club?”

“And why do you think I’d know any clubs like that? I’m fucking engaged to be married, Hank, why would I need to know about things like that?”

There was a moment of silence, before Hank replied: “Because I know Lisa? That’s enough reason to know very fucking whorehouse in the District.”

“Lisa is a wonderful woman and I’m very blessed to have her in my life,” John snapped. “Text me a fucking address so I have a chance to stop those morons from getting into more trouble.”

“Will do,” Hank said and ended the call.

When John turned around, he found his wards discussing something very loudly, and he only heard fragments about Americans not knowing how to honor their guests with appropriate entertainment and that they were considering to put an early end to the negotiations that John had put more time into than had been good for his relationship in the past months.

“Gentlemen,” he said with a sly smile after having received the required text from Hank, and continued in a fluent and only very slightly accentuated Arabian dialect that these men were speaking: “I have just gotten word from a coworker of mine who highly recommends a club where I am sure we can provide the entertainment and distraction that is exactly what you wish for, and maybe a little more.”

While the men of the delegation he had been tasked with to take care of where breaking out in more chatter, this time though with pleased and expectant expressions, John waved a taxi over and told the driver the address of the club that Hank had recommended.

He had never heard of a club, or whatever the establishment was, called _Splendid_ , and the name sounded not very promising to be honest. To his ears it sounded cheap and so unimaginative that John had no doubt that it was just a place without any class and questionable standards, but if the guests were pleased he was nobody to put those doubts he was having into words. While the three men on the backseat were still chatting, gesticulating wildly and already slightly tipsy from the alcohol they had consumed in one of the bars John had taken them, in the hopes that them being away from home and the offerings of free booze would already make them more pliable to the requests that were discussed with them.

It took them almost half an hour until the taxi stopped in front of a dark building in a more industrial looking area of the city, a part in which John had never been in before and looking at the buildings surrounding them, planned already to never return here ever again. He paid the driver and then put on his fake smile and escorted the delegation to the entrance under the bright dark purple neon sign that showed the club’s name which made John again cringe inwardly. He doubted that this club had anything to offer that could be called “splendid”, but then he had not much of a chance and could only pray that this night would turn out to be a success.

He knocked at the locked door and the bouncer, a man towering over John by a head’s length looked down at him, who straightened his back, continuing to smile. Checking John and the three now a little nervous looking men for weapons which they all thankfully did not carry, he finally let them enter and a quite nice looking lady in a sleek dress took the coats of the men and put them away with a kind smile.

John was surprised that the club smelled clean, though of alcohol and smoke, and looked elegant and was well furnished in dark colors and accents of silver and gold without making it look tacky. Leather and chrome seemed to be the most prominent materials that the interior designer had worked with and gilded mirrors hang on the walls instead of paintings. It looked…nice.

“Gentlemen,” John said, again smiling. “I hope you’ll have a wonderful evening, enjoy yourselves.”

Already while he spoke those words, one of the men went towards a seating area where several scarcely dressed girls sat, and did not hesitate to touch one woman’s arm, another’s leg while sitting down there, finding himself immediately surrounded by the moths that were drawn to his light. John almost wanted to roll his eyes, and watched the other two men start to mingle with the offerings of the club as well, one taking the offer of an expensive cigar, the other strolling around the large room.

John himself went to the bar that as well was mirrored and found a man behind the counter, tall and slender, with a stern looking face, the hair almost military style short with piercing blue eyes.

“What can I get you?” He asked with a mumbling accent.

“A whiskey will do,” John replied, looking over his shoulder and still taking his surroundings in.

“Bourbon, malt, scotch?”

“Single malt,” he replied. “Sorry, I was distracted.”

The man smiled.

“Your first time here?”

John nodded and took the glass, downing the whiskey which was smooth on his tongue.

“Not my usual turf,” he said. “I’m the chaperone for the evening.”

The other smiled and filled his glass up again.

“They seem to have a good time already,” he said. “Julie over there, she’s going to give him the time of his life.”

John turned and looked at the one man of his delegation that had went to the seating area, not a curvy blonde on his lap who was touching his chest and whispered something into his ear.

“She works fast,” John meant.

“Time is money.”

“That’s very true.”

The bartender turned to serve two other guests, two men who spoke with southern accents and had a tiny brunette sitting between them who was rubbing both men’s thighs, and John already had an idea that she would take care later on of both of them, which was a strangely arousing thought that he shrugged off with another sip of his drink which was refilled again on his nod when the bartender returned to him.

“You’re doing business with those men?”

“Sort of,” John said. “Politics, quite boring actually.”

The bartender nodded, again smiling.

“Politics have always bored me, they mean nothing but corruption and regulations where there should be none.”

John raised a brow.

“Got into trouble before?”

The man laughed.

“Not spilling my secrets, but back home, life wasn't always the best. It’s not all rainbows and puppies here either, but it’s better.”

John tilted his head.

“I can’t put your accent anywhere,” he said. “Something Slavic?”

“Good guess,” the bartender said. “Romanian. You want another?”

John shook his head.

“No, I had enough. I’d like to keep a level head tonight, thank you.”

The bartender nodded.

“You should try to enjoy yourself while you’re here,” the man said. “You look like you could use some relaxation yourself.”

John looked at the stranger for a while, thinking that he was probably right.

*~~*~~*~~*~~*

Nigel came down from his office in the early morning hours after having spent most of the previous night with paperwork and a few nerve-wrecking phone calls with contacts in Europe and found his club in the usual atmosphere of departure that hang over the Splendid every day when the busy night turned into a calming day.

His girls had already changed into their street clothes and aid goodbye to each other with smiles and kisses here and there, when they saw their boss, two of them waved shortly towards him, knowing better than to approach him at the end of the night when he felt cranky and tired. Whatever they needed to talk to him about was better to be done before the next night in the club started.

Sharing a short smile with one of the girls, a redhead that called herself Jeanny, but was actually called Jennifer and was a single mom of two year old twins, Nigel went over to the bar where Darko was cleaning up the counter with a cloth and when he looked up and saw his friend and boss approach, he grinned.

“Haven’t seen your ugly mug the whole night,” Darko remarked and grinned even brighter when he saw the annoyed scowl on Nigel’s face.

“When it’s that fucking ugly, you should be fucking happy you didn’t see me,” he meant and sat down on one of the bar stools. “Did anything happen I should be made aware of?”

Darko shrugged.

“It was mostly a calm night, busy though. Peg had fun with two guys from Texas, and she said they tipped her generous,” he said. “But nothing special, no.”

Nigel nodded and turned to leave, get to his car and return home to just take a long hot shower and sleep the day away, but then Darko raised a hand and made him stop.

“There was some politics guy with a troup of Arabs, chaperoning them,” he added with a wink. “You might want to check out the tape from room 11. He went up with Elena.”

“Politics?”

“Might have use for him,” Darko said and Nigel nodded.

With a sigh and still feeling grumpy, he returned upstairs where he office was, a large room with a glass wall that enable him to have a nice view over the main room of his club when he stood there, the other side mirrored so nobody could see anything that was going on in his office. He started his laptop again that he had just shut down and after a short waiting time, he accessed the security tape, as he liked to call it, of the room Darko had mentioned.

He knew Elena to be skilled and she was one of his favorites, not that he had ever fucked her for more than two years, having made a habit to try out the goods his girls were offering and then never touching them again. Business and private life should be two separate things as far as he was concerned, but he still liked to look at the pretty ladies that were working for him, and he made sure that they were well treated and liked their job in his club.

Leaning back in his chair, he watched how Elena, a gorgeous brunette entered the room, dragging a man at her hand behind her, who seemed out of place somehow. Nigel could not see much of him on the small screen, but when he zoomed in, he looked at a face almost too pretty for a man and partly hidden by a thick dark beard. The hair was cut short, almost too short, and his eyes seemed to be of a light color, large and with a curious expression. He said something to Elena and she laughed, turning into his arms and kissed him deeply. The whole body language of the man told him that he had been aroused and more than ready to make good use of what Elena had to offer to him, kissing her open mouthed and then licking a wet trail to her ear and sucked on an earlobe. Oh, that man knew what he was doing, and he looked very comfortable doing so, looked like he was hungry and starving. He grinded his hips against Elena’s body and let his hands roam her back, pulling the zipper of her tight fake leather dress down, and then smiled when he finally touched her bare skin.

Elena shrugged out of her dress, wearing dark lingerie underneath, silk and lace, and started to open the man’s shirt while he was still wearing his dark jacket and tie, pushing him finally on the large bed and crawling on top of him. The small look she gave into the direction where the hidden camera was located told Nigel that she was well aware that she was being filmed doing her job, and Nigel never had made it a secret that he had established cameras in every room, only partly for the girls’ safety.

She pulled the jacket of the man over his shoulders, opening with skilled and quick fingers his shirt and tie and made smooth pale skin visible that was more mouthwatering to Nigel than he had expected. He wondered if the man’s skin was as soft as it looked, what he would smell like, what he sounded like. He found himself getting that fluttering feeling in his own trousers that were unmistakably arousal, which surprised him. He had never been much of a voyeur, but watching Elena with the stranger, it does something unexpected to him.

Nigel tilted the head to the side while he watched the pair on his laptop screen make out, the foreplay they shared getting more and more heated and passionate, even though the man seemed a little hesitant about his movements. The part of the man’s dress pants that he saw left no doubt about the state of arousal he was in and when Elena started to suck on his neck, he arched his neck back, eyes squeezed shut and his hands in her long hair. He said something and Elena looked up from her ministrations at his crotch where she had glided down to, opening his pants and one of her small hands already in his underwear, pulling on what was probably his hard cock. Nigel licked his lips, almost impatient to see finally the younger man in all his gorgeous glory, and was not disappointed when Elena pulled finally the man’s pants down his hips and exposed more pale skin to the room’s dim lights. A thin trail of dark hair lead from his navel to his groin, and finally Nigel got a good look on a cock that met all the expectations that had already formed in his head. The perfect size for the man’s body, only slightly curved but not as hard as Nigel had thought he had become in Elena’s company, who started to suck and lick at him, whose face looked like he moaned, the lips open and the eyes still shut.

Fuck. That man was gorgeous all over, and Nigel already made plans to find out who he was. Maybe he had paid with a credit card that would give away his name, and Darko had said he was something in politics, which was something he could definitely use. It never hurt to have someone with connections at his disposal.

Nigel almost turned off the laptop, somehow not wanting to see the man fuck Elena, for whatever reason, but just when he was about to close the lid, he stopped in his movement when he saw Elena get up from the bed, leaving her naked partner behind who watched her get something from the sideboard opposite the bed. She searched for something in the drawer where an assortment of toys for every taste was stored as was the case in every of the rooms, and then turned around when she had found what she had been looking for.

She threw a small bottle onto the bed, holding something else visible for her client in her raised hand.

Nigel’s eyes widened a second, but then a wide smile spread over his face when he saw what Elena was holding in her hands, a sweet smile on her pretty face.

A black strap-on.

Nigel grinned wider and leaned back in his chair, a hand moving into his own pants where he found himself to be hard. He rubbed his erection absently while his thoughts were centering on the information he was just processing.

A member of some political group. Someone important enough to take care of a delegation for the evening. Someone who liked being pegged up the ass instead of taking advantage of the wet pussy that was offered to him, which was most probably not common knowledge.

Interesting.

Very fucking interesting indeed.


	2. Chapter 2

The meeting John was leaving a week after his adventure in the night club had gone not at all like he had expected. That idiot of a consultant the president had asked to join the negotiations had shown to be a prejudiced asshole who was so obviously incapable of making a decision that John had been close to either yelling insults in seven languages at the other man or hitting him hard and repeatedly with one of the thick folders that decorated the conference table.

In the end, the meeting had resulted in being nothing but wasted time when it had been postponed to continue the day after tomorrow and John had been tasked with preparing several background checks and come up with feasible plans how to finish these negotiations in an outcome that would be profitable and pleasing for both side. Something that could turn out into a small war at the conference table when the participating parties were on sides this differing in their opinions.

Especially the presidential advisors he was working with, partially older than him and thinking they were his superiors when they were not, had shown that they had gotten into those positions only with contacts and because they played gold with the right people. Hank had not been any help in all this, having taken a surprising side in the negotiation that John had tried to smile away while thinking that nobody at that table should be this stupid and uninformed.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers, urging the growing headache away, wishing he was already home with a glass of whiskey, a good book and a long hot shower, but when his phone chimed in his jacket’s inner pocket he felt immediately a migraine to start behind his temples and closed his eyes for a second, willing the ring tone away, not ready or prepared to take this call and for a moment he considered to just ignore the call and let it go to his mailbox. But then he would have to face a very annoyed blonde when he got home tonight, and that was something he definitely was not wanting to spend his evening with, and so he took his phone out of the pocket and pressed the button to answer the call.

“Lisa,” he said, his voice mirroring the annoyance he was feeling. “You know that I have important meetings today. I hope it’s something important.”

The short burst of laughter from the other side made him close his eyes once more. Sometimes he asked himself why he was bothering with this.

“Darling,” she said, her voice sugar sweet. “I only wanted to remind you that we have a dinner date with mom and daddy tonight at seven. Don’t be late, you know how daddy feels about you never being on time.”

“Maybe your daddy would understand it if he had a schedule like me,” he gave back, his voice sounding more snappy than he had intended to.

“Aww, don’t be like that, darling,” she cooed and John could not avoid to smile while he started to walk down the hallway, loosening his tie a little. “I love you even though you’re a grumpy bastard.”

“Such sweet pet names you have for me, Lise,” he said. “I’ll try to be punctual. Text me the address of the restaurant where your parents want to meet us, okay?”

“Will do,” she said. “I think daddy wants to get us to finally set a wedding date, John. I still think that a March wedding would be really nice, not too warm and not too cold.”

John took a deep breath.

“March…is soon,” he said. “Don’t you need a longer time for preparations?”

“Don’t leave me waiting for much longer, darling, or I’ll elope with your best man instead.”

For a moment John thought about who his best man would be, not having anyone he would call such a close friend in his life, so his choice would probably fall on a co-worker, Hank or maybe Eric, but instead of commenting this, he said: “Good thing you love me.”

She laughed and he heard a voice in the background, telling him that she was still in her office in the gallery.

“I do love you,” she confirmed. “I have to run, a client is waiting for me. See you at seven. Love you, poochie.”

He winced at her habit for calling him weird names.

“Love you too,” he said and ended the call.

There went his plan of a quiet evening and he had to admit that he indeed had forgotten about the dinner appointment with Lisa’s parents that had been plastered on a note with bold letters on his fridge for the past two weeks, another wasted evening he would not be able to escape from like he had done with the past three attempts to meet with them.

Wanting at least to get a little more work done, he went down the hallway, planning to take the stairs up the one floor that lead to the offices where his was as well, when he bumped into one of his co-workers around the next corner. Brian was a thick necked and tall man who looked more like a bouncer than an aspiring politician and while not being on the same side, John had met Brian as a worthy adversary and the slightly younger man who was ahead of a promising career had a sharp mind and a quick wit which both were qualities that John valued in other people.

Brian smiled at him and his dark eyes sparkled a little.

“Sorry, John, I didn’t see you there,” he said.

“Hey, Brian,” John replied. “No harm done.”

Brian nodded and started to walk past him but then stopped.

“There’s someone waiting in your office, I think,” he said. “I was surprised that Alice let him in while you’re not present.”

John frowned, it was not the first time his secretary broke clear regulations about visitors not being allowed in his office when he was not there, and he had already given her two warnings. Sadly she made the best coffee he ever had and had an education in various Arabic dialects which made their work delightful. She knew he would not let her go and took him not half as serious as she should have.

He rolled his eyes.

“I’ll have to talk to Alice again,” he sighed. “Thank you, Brian. See you tomorrow.”

Brian nodded and went on with his way with a smile, while John pushed the door to the staircase open and went upstairs, where his office was the third on the left and was greeted by his secretary leaning in her chair and chatting to a man he had never seen before, obvious that both of them were flirting shamelessly.

He cleaned his throat and raised a brow.

“John,” Alice said, pulling a strand of her red hair behind one ear, leaning a little forward to show off her pleasingly massive breasts that were threatening to jump out of the scarce blouse she was wearing. “I just wanted to text you to inform you that your 4 pm appointment is already waiting for you.”

“My…,” John started and looked at the stranger who was still sitting on the edge of Alice’s desk, a smug smile on the lips and assessing John from head to toe with an expression that John could not right place. “I have no 4 pm appointment.”

The man stood now finally up, ignoring the confused look Alice gave them both.

“Now you do, gorgeous,” he said, a thick accent in the low and smooth voice and offered John a hand to shake. “Nigel Ibanescu, pleased to meet you.”

*~~*~~*~~*~~*

John was still frowning when he lead the way into his adjoining office and went around his desk to sit down behind it after he closed the door. Part of him was curious who the stranger was and what he wanted, part of him was annoyed that the man had somehow been given access to a government building and acted like he belonged there.

While John sat down, the stranger, Ibanescu if that was his real name, inspected the book shelves that were on the right side of the room. John had stored several of his books in several languages there, trinket and souvenirs from his travels and a few photographs that showed him with important people he had met and done business with, and only very few private photographs. Ibanescu made a big deal about looking at everything, assessing the man he was meeting by checking out everything that made this office personal.

Standing there, he gave John a moment to be assessed himself.

He was tall and lean, but the way he held himself spoke the clear language of a man who was fit and toned, of someone who could move fast and was most probably stronger than he appeared. He had broad shoulders and elegant hands with visible veins, long and slender fingers that moved over the backs of John’s books as if touching them told him more. His hair was cut short but stray strands fell into his forehead, a color that once must have been something on the dark blond or light brown side but was now plastered with strands of silver and grey, not distracting from the knowledge that this was not an old man though older than John himself was by several years. He had a uniquely handsome face, tanned skin and from what John had seen when he had met him in his secretary’s office, intelligent and expressive brown eyes. An attractive man.

“Mister Ibanescu,” John said, starting to grow angry by the man who was still ignoring him and who only now turned around to face him. “What can I do for you? I doubt you came to see me to look at my books.”

Ibenescu smiled, somewhat lopsided and something about him made him look like a predator who exactly knew what he wanted.

Without being asked, Ibanescu sat down opposite John and crossed his long legs.

“I’ve come to suggest a business arrangement, John,” he said, again the thick accent prominent in his voice.

John raised a brow.

“A business arrangement,” he repeated. “I doubt that government matters are the business you are usually involved in, Mister Ibanescu.”

The man continued to smile, making John uneasy. There was something that told him that he was not the one holding the ropes in this conversation. Something that he usually avoided like the plague.

“I’m awaiting a delivery from abroad,” Ivanesco said. “I know you have contacts in the Department of Commerce and in customs, I’d appreciate if you have my delivery cleared without complications.”

Now both of John’s brows went up. He leaned back in his chair and took a pen into his hand to play with it, the smile on his face cold and calculating.

“And why would I do that, Mister Ibanescu?” He asked. “I don’t know who you are, but even a slimy fucker like you can’t be so stupid to ask a presidential advisor for a most probably illegal favor.”

Ibanescu’s smile did not falter for a single second.

Instead he put a hand into the inside of his dark blue jacket and pulled his phone out. Again ignoring John, he scrolled through something and then seemingly found what he was looking for and handed the phone to John, having set a video in motion.

John’s eyes narrowed when he looked at the display, and then all color left his face when he recognized what was happening in the clip.

A nude man on a bed of brocade and satin, his hands cramped into the expensive and as he remembered soft duvet, eyes shut in an expression between pleasure and pain, sweat covering his skin, the short hair a mess of damp strands. His mouth was agape in silent moans since the video had no soundtrack. He was moving against the thrusts from the person behind him, who was fucking him into oblivion, causing him to be lost in desire and passion, being pegged by a thick plastic dildo that the whore had strapped on, being fucked hard and deep.

It took not much for John to remember the feelings he had experienced that night. Long forgotten, long avoided, and long desired. The feeling of submitting without giving himself up completely. Something pleasurable and something he had hidden since…

“What the fuck?” John whispered and looked up at Ibanescu, who was still smiling. “Who are you?”

“I told you my name, gorgeous,” Ibanescu said. “Nigel Ibanescu. I’m sure you will run a background check on me as soon as I leave, so I can already tell you that you have been a guest in my club a week ago, where this little home video was made,” he continued. “I have run my own check on you after I learned your name, John. John Cooper Zabel, 39 years old, engaged to Lisa-Marie Hamilton, oldest daughter of Governor Clint Hamilton. What would little Lisa and her daddy think if they knew you like it up the ass, and according to Elena squeal like a pig while being fucked?”

John had the certain feeling that his heart had stopped beating, continuing to wordlessly stare at Ibanescu, handing him back his phone that he put back into his pocket.

“So, gorgeous,” Ibanescu started, his smile smug. “Do we have a deal?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ship has a name!!! Say hello to HOMEDOGS!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nigel makes his intentions clear...

Reality only slowly settled in John’s brain after the stranger had left his office, the handshake he had offered a little too strong and a little too long to make him comfortable. But in fact, nothing about the man with the silver streaks in his hair made him comfortable. Not that he was taller than John, not that he had broader shoulders, not that his voice was sharp as a knife and at the same time weirdly smooth, not his accent and especially not the way he looked at him.

Ibanescu had assessed John throughout their whole conversation that had died done after he had been shown the video that was illegally recorded in the club. John’s remark that he was breaking the law had amused Ibanescu to no limits, the smirk he seemed to constantly wear on his lips had turned into a grin and John had started to feel even more uneasy than he had before. There was something about the Romanian that made John certain that he took no prisoners and that accusing him of blackmail was not the smartest move, while Ibanescu was absolutely aware that he broke the law and not for the first time.

The fact that Ibanescu had seen him in his most vulnerable moment, had stared at his body and face in the throes of passion, made John blush to his ears. He had never been one to enjoy exhibitionist tendencies, did not even like public displays of affection and took a conservative opinion when it came to public sexual acts. Maybe it was his upbringing, maybe it was his experience, maybe it was his past, he could not say. But anyway, that Ibanescu had seen him not only engaged in a sexual act but being the submissive part, bottoming for a female whore who pegged him was not only embarrassing.

He felt humiliated and ashamed.

Ibanescu had told him, not waiting for his further agreement in their business arrangement, that he would contact him in the next days, and only now John noticed that he had not asked for his phone number.

Moaning, he rubbed his face, becoming aware that Ibanescu had not only run a background check on him but also had gotten personal and private information about his fiancée and the life he was leading. What else Ibanescu had found out about him, he did not even want to think about that. What if he had taken a look into John’s past and found out about …

John took a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves. There was nothing to worry about. He had this under control. He always had everything under control.

Still rubbing his temples, he took out his phone and dialed a number that and waited only a few seconds until his call was answered.

“John,” a voice from the other end said when the call was picked up. “I haven’t heard from you in ages. What can I do for you?”

John hesitated a moment.

“I need you to run a background check on someone I met,” he said. “Can you take a few notes about what I know?”

“Sure,” the other man replied. “Shoot.”

“Nigel Ibanescu, I-B-A-N-E-S-C-U. In his fifties I think, 1.80 to 1.85. Romanian. He owns a club in town, the Splendid,” he said. “I need…”

“What the fuck are you doing with the likes of Nigel Ibanescu?” Came the interruption.

John frowned.

“You know him?”

“I know of him. Listen, John, don’t get into his way. He won’t hesitate to have you skinned, and I don’t mean that figuratively. He’s dangerous. How the fuck did a presidential advisor as you get his surf?”

“That doesn’t matter,” John said, not wanting to give more away. “I need a check on him. I want to know everything that you can get your hands on.”

“He won’t like if I investigate him, and he will know. He knows everything, no clue how he does that.”

“He knows I will run a check on him. I think he expects it, so don’t worry about it,” John explained. “Just do what I asked. I will transfer your payment to the usual account.”

“Make it the double price.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Make it double or go find someone else,” the other insisted.

John sighed.

“Okay, do it.”

“Always a pleasure doing business with you, John.”

“Yeah, sure,” he gave back and ended the call, knowing that his contact would have the information he had required within the next days.

*~~*~~*~~*~~*

Days that felt like waiting for a death sentence.

The only thing distracting him was the knowledge that another dinner with Lisa’s parents was planned for a weekend in three weeks’ time, in her parent’s estate upstate New York. Lisa was already giddy about the large party her parents planned to host, with important people from politics and close friends, he at least had something to look forward too, even if he dreaded come-togethers like that. Of course Lisa and John as her fiancé were invited and he had accepted the invitation with a grateful smile and kind eyes, a mask he had trained himself to wear at all times when necessary. He already knew that her father would again ask for a wedding date and would John knew that it would make him look weak and without the ability to make decisions.

He has his phone on him at all times, waiting for a text message or call that would stop the agony of not knowing what awaited him.

John had not only been waiting for his contact to get back at him with information about Ibanescu. It had even been so much more nerve-wrecking to wait for Ibanescu to contact him, which he did four days later.

He had not expected that Ibanescu would order him by text message to visit him in his club, a place that he dreaded to visit ever again in his life after the outcome of his first and last visit in the Splendid, but the Romanian did. With very few words and clear amusement in his voice, he had told him to come see him on Tuesday afternoon and John had no choice but agree to this meeting.

He did everything that nobody knew where he went when he left his office that day. Alice looked at him with curiosity and had asked him, not respecting his privacy in the slightest, where he was going and if he was meeting with Lisa for a late lunch. John had only glared at her, and then went out of the office and got into his car.

It was three traffic lights later that John noticed that he was gripping the steering wheel in a way that made his fingers ache and his knuckles turn white under the stress.

The way into the industrial area in which the club was located had taken him much less time than he had expected, only remembering party the way the taxi had taken them back then, and it felt surreal that it was not even two weeks ago since he had set foot into the night club and had done something that threatened to ruin his well-built life.

The bounced seemed to already await him and only smirked at him when he granted him entry, and for a moment John was fearful that Ibanescu had shown the video clip to others, maybe even to everyone else in the club. He felt heat crawl up his back at the thought that these strangers had seen him as well at his weakest and laughed at him, made fun of him, but nobody said a word.

Not sure what to do with himself, he went to the bar, where the same bartender was getting his work place ready for the evening’s opening of the club.

“Oh, hey,” the bartender said. “You again.”

John frowned, doubting that the bartender had a memory that good to remember every guest who frequented this establishment.

“Hey,” he said, his eyes narrowed while looking at the other man. “Ibanescu is waiting for me.”

The bartender nodded.

“I know,” he grinned. “Upstairs, turn left and then it’s the third door.”

John stared at him for a moment longer, considering if he should ask him how he knew about their appointment, but decided to say nothing. Instead, he went upstairs and followed the man’s instructions and finally knocked three times at the door and waited to be invited inside.

It took a few seconds until the door opened and a small blonde girl came outside, the eyes looking like she had cried, and John had immediately a feeling of nausea in his stomach. She reached his shoulder in height, was fragile and had large blue eyes that were red-rimmed. Behind her, Ibanescu appeared, putting his shirt into his tight fitting pants and smiled at him.

“Tess?” Ibanescu said to the girl who was walking away. “It’s okay.”

She smiled shortly and nodded and went ahead with her way.

John's eyes followed her for a second, before he turned his attention back to Ibanescu.

“John, how nice you could come,” Ibanescu then told John and invited him into the room that was probably his office with a gesture.

John stepped into the room and stood in the center a little lost for a moment, while Ibanescu closed the door behind him and went to take his seat at the desk.

“Sit down, gorgeous,” Ibanescu smiled, his legs crossed and leaned back.

Again, John frowned and then took the chair opposite the older man and sat down.

“I’d appreciate if you would call me by my name,” John said.

“Of course, gorgeous.”

John needed all his self-control and strength to not get up and yell at the smug bastard, who just continued to smile at him, eyes again roaming over his body like he was the canary a very hungry cat wanted for dinner, a thought that was only strengthened when Ibanescu licked his lips, his eyes on John’s mouth.

Without saying anything else, Ibanescu handed John a manila envelope that John opened and looked inside, finding shipping documents.

“I need you to have this consignment cleared.”

John nodded.

“What will happen to the video,” he asked.

“What do you think will happen?”

“I expect you to destroy all copies you have of it,” John said, and tried to make his voice sound confident.

Ibanescu laughed.

He honestly laughed at him.

His handsome eyes crinkled at the corners and he ran a hand through his silver streaked hair.

“You expect me to destroy the copies I have?” He laughed. “That’s precious, gorgeous. Just precious. I knew you are a funny man.”

The frown on John’s face grew deeper, anger welling up inside him.

“I don’t think anything about this is funny, Mister Ibanescu,” he snarled, hisvoice not leaving any doubt how annoyed and furious he was.

“Nigel,” was the reply.

“I’m not calling you by your first name,” he snapped back. “I will do this one job for you, and then you will vanish from my life and I will hopefully never have to bother with you again, you fucking bastard.”

Ibanescu grinned.

“Oh, you will see me again,” he said, the voice sweet. “And you will not only say my name, you will scream it.”

John blinked at the other man, not quite comprehending what he was saying. Was he implying to torture or harm him if he did not agree to do his bidding? Or was he implying something else. No, that was not possible. He would not…

“What are you implying?” He asked, the voice suddenly very thin.

Ibanescu leaned forward in his chair, both strong forearms on the plate of his desk, hands folded. His whiskey colored eyes were again moving over John’s body and stopped looking right into his eyes.

John felt his heart quicken, felt heat rise and the unwelcome feeling of anxiety growing inside him.

Impossible.

“I’m not implying anything, gorgeous,” Ibanescu said. “You made quite a show in bed with Elena, I’m curious how you will act when the real thing takes your ass apart.”

John’s mouth opened but he found himself unable to say anything.

Instead, he stared at Ibanescu, right into his eyes, searching for the joke he was making, waiting for the man to start laughing and tell him he was just having fun with him. But Ibanescu only looked at him, himself waiting for something, for a reaction, for the moment that understanding dawned in John’s eyes.

It was not understanding that appeared seconds later.

It was shock.

What he thought it meant...it was not possible that Ibanescu meant exactly that. He would not. He could not. 

John blinked at the criminal who was smiling at the thought of ruining John's life, so well-planned, so planned out in every detail. 

“You are…,” John whispered with a hoarse and slowly breaking voice that mirrored the turmoil his emotions were once again in. “You can’t be serious. You can’t mean…you intent to…”

Now, Ibanescu tilted the head to the side and again a smile went over his sensual looking lips, a little lopsided and filled with sarcasm and curiosity.

“What I mean, gorgeous, is,” he began, his tongue flicking over his bottom lip. “That I intent to fuck you as often and as hard and in any way that pleases me.”


	4. Chapter 4

Ibanescu's words seemed to be still ringing in John’s head a few days later.

He had tried to bury himself in work, had taken part in negotiations and conferences, had made phone calls to representatives of other countries, dignitaries of an Emirate, and had participated in the travel arrangements that the President needed to be made for a journey to the Middle East and into which John himself would be part of the US delegation.

It had been busy days, and still he could not forget what Ibanescu had said.

_“What I mean, gorgeous, is that I intent to fuck you as often and as hard and in any way that pleases me.”_

John felt the same shudder down his spine that he had felt when he stood there, staring at Ibanescu’s smug and predatory grin, had watched how the older man had licked his lips like he was ready to devour John any given moment, before John had stopped acting like a deer in headlights and had fled the room and building as fast as his dignity allowed him to. The bartender and the whores that were crowding the club had stared at him when he had passed through, his ears hot and with the certain feeling that he was blushing deeply.

But it had not been the announcement that Ibanescu had made, not the fact what he had in mind what would happen between him and John, it had been the thought of becoming intimate with a man he knew not much about and had told himself that he did not want to know anything about nor get closer to him as necessary. Still, the thought of Ibanescu touching him, taking him, made his knees tremble and his stomach flutter in a way he had not felt in many years, when another attraction had ended in a disaster.

And now again, standing in the kitchen of the apartment that he shared with Lisa, he suddenly had an image in his head that made no sense. Of Ibanescu standing behind him, hot breath on his neck, a kiss to his ear, John closing his eyes in gentle arousal, a soft moan on his lips, Ibanescu saying…

“John?”

With a gasp he woke from the trance his thoughts had put him into and blinked a few times to force himself to return to reality. His right hand was cramped around the kitchen towel that he had used to dry the plates they had used for the dinner they had shared, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up. He did not dare to turn around, did not dare to turn to face Lisa, scared that she would see on his face what his thoughts had just drifted towards. He let out another deep breath and then put on his professional smile and turned around, drying his hands in the towel.

“What is it?” He asked his fiancée.

Lisa, looking like she had stepped out of a fashion magazine, was standing there in the doorway and smiled at him.

“Daddy has just texted me about the barbeque in three weeks,” she said, waving her phone in her hands. “He asks if I’m certain you will come there with me. Isn’t he stupid sometimes?”

The smile was putting a weird strain on John’s jaw, frozen into place.

“Why would he ask that?” John asked, leaning against the counter behind him.

Lisa shrugged.

“He’s saying something about your business trip to Tirana,” she said.

John frowned and looked at the woman he was planning to marry, asking himself several questions and having thoughts run through his head that almost made him scream.

“Tehran,” he only said, the voice low.

“What?”

“The business trip, with is about being part of a presidential delegation is not to Tirana, which is the capital of Albania. The trip is to Tehran,” he replied, hearing his own voice sounding like an unpleased snarl.

Lisa though, she shrugged.

“Whatever,” she laughed. “All the same, isn’t it? Daddy just wants to know if you will keep your word this time and come.”

John was close to tearing his hair out and continued to look at her pretty face, surrounded by the professionally coiffed hair in soft waves.

“The same?” He asked her. “Albania is in Europe, Lisa. Iran is in the Middle East.”

She huffed and crossed her arms, like a pouting child.

“Will you come to the barbeque or not, John?” She asked, her voice more stern and calculating than before.

A line appeared between John’s brows, showing clearly that he was upset but he did not say all the things that were on his mind this moment, swallowing the anger about Lisa not caring even a little bit about his work and the passion he put into the things he did, his career that he had been working on for twenty years, and instead he smiled again.

“Yes, I will come to the barbeque. I said I would, didn’t I?”

“Last time you cancelled,” she said, eyes narrowed.

“I…,” he started and stopped himself from the comment that was already forming on his tongue. “I’ll be there.”

Now she smiled again and made three steps towards him, giving him a hug and kissing his cheek and then his lips.

“I love you, poochie,” she cooed.

“I love y…”

His phone started ringing in his pocket and he raised a finger and took the call after a look at the display.

“I have to take this,” he said and went, while holding the phone to his ear through the living room outside to the balcony.

Cold night air hit him and cleared his senses and thoughts.

“I can talk,” he said. “Do you have news for me?”

“Sure do, Zabel,” the man on the other end said. “That shipment from South America you wanted intel on?”

John rubbed a hand over his face, not feeling comfortable about this whole thing in the slightest.

“Yeah,” he said. “What about it?”

The other man chuckled.

“Got it cleared, man, that was some work, I tell you. Had to bribe a few pretty shady characters in customs, but the container number you gave me is clear and the consignment can be picked up at any time. I just put the papers into your mailbox downstairs.”

John nodded to himself.

“That’s…that’s great news. I owe you one.”

“You owe me two or three,” the other laughed. “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Johnny boy.”

John sighed and ended the call and stared for a moment longer on the display, and then opened the texting app and typed a short message.

_The shipment is cleared._

_A courier will get the paperwork to you first thing tomorrow_

_We’re done_

He felt a moment of relief when he sent out the few lines and then put his phone away and returned to the living room, where Lisa had taken place on the white leather couch she had picked out and was zapping through several TV programs until she stopped at a fashion report. John stepped up behind her and massaged her shoulder for a moment.

“Already done?” She asked, not stopping to watch the TV screen.

“Yes, was just an information for the trip next month,” John answered and rolled his tense shoulders. “I’m taking a quick shower, back in a few.”

She looked up at him when he went past the couch and then said: “I’m actually rather tired. Will you be very upset if I go to bed soon?”

John stopped in the doorway and looked back over his shoulder.

“No, you don’t need to wait for me. Maybe I will do some paperwork later still, I have some things I need to look into.”

Lisa rolled her eyes.

“Always the busy bee,” she meant with a smile. “Love you, good night.”

He only nodded and made his way into the white bathroom that held mostly Lisa’s supplies and plush bathrobe and towels and only a small shelve next to the washing basin had space for his toiletries. Turning on the water as hot as he could bear, he stripped out of his clothing and stepped under the steaming spray, tilting his head into his neck, his eyes closed and enjoying the feeling of the hot water on his body, feeling how the tension slipped off his muscles and left him a little more relaxed. Still, there was this feeling of being unwell in his stomach, something he could not place and a part of him knew it had to do with Ibanescu and situation between him and the criminal.

He took his time to rub the showergel Lisa liked into his skin and his shampoo into hair and beard and washed it out thoroughly before he leaned against the tiled wall, still with closed eyes and let one hand run over his wet body, feeling his nipples under the palm of his hand, his flat stomach and finally the course hair of his pubes, but before he reached to touch his half erect cock, for whatever reason he had become aroused, he stopped himself and tried to shrug the feeling of arousal off. He was not like this. He did not need this.

Deciding that it would be better to just go and do some more work, he turned the water off and dried himself with one of Lisa’s towels, fluffy and soft and of a soft rose color, and looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. He looked tired and pale, stressed, and there was not much resembling the young man he once had been, full of idealistic dreams of a better world, and instead someone stared back at him from the mirror who was a cold and reserved man, sleazy and slimy and going his way no matter how.

He put his white shirt back on and closed the buttons and also the dark pants he had worn before, and was just closing the belt when his phone chimed and indicated that he had received a message.

Dread rose inside him, the taste of bile in his throat. Anxiety and the fear of the unknown present, when he took the phone into his hands and looked at the text he had just gotten.

_Bring them yourself_

_Tonight_

John stared for what felt like hours at his phone, reading those two lines again and again, over and over.

Ibanescu could not be serious. There was no way in hell that he would drive to the Splendid in the middle of the night and deliver illegal paperwork to him. How would he explain that to Lisa, and still he knew that Ibanescu would not hesitate to send Lisa the video clip and maybe to his superiors as well and would ruin everything he had been working towards.

He was close to throwing up alone at the thought of meeting the Romanian again, and still he decided that he had no choice. Slipping back into his shoes, he left the bathroom and took his coat from the wardrobe next to the apartment door. The fact that the living room was dark told him that Lisa had already retreated to the bedroom and when he opened the door to the room they had shared for the past three years, after they had moved together into this apartment.

“Lise?” He asked into the darkness of the bedroom. “Are you still awake?”

Lisa shifted in bed and mumbled something, a certain indicator that she had taken something to fall asleep easier.

“I forgot something at the office. I’ll be back later.”

Again, she mumbled something into the pillows and John closed the door again and after checking his pocket for wallet and keys, left the apartment and went to the underground garage of the apartment building and got into his car after getting the envelope from the mailbox, heavy with the paperwork that Ibanescu was waiting for.

His fingers again drummed an irregular rhythm on the steering wheel while he drove through almost empty streets and finally reached his destination. There were several cars parked in front of the club, telling him that it was open and that guests were there.

Hands buried deep in his pockets, he knocked and the bouncer gave him a toothy grin when he opened for him.

“Nigel waits for you,” he said, accent thick and amused. “Told me to let you right in.”

John only nodded and did not say a word, entering the club that tonight smelled of cigars and liquor, a different scent from the last time he was here, and when his eyes scanned shortly the main room, the bartender gave him a short nod that John returned, which made him frown at himself.

Knowing from the bouncer that Ibanescu awaited him, John went directly, meeting two of Ibanescu’s smiling whores arm in arm on their way down.

In front of the office, he hesitated.

What the fuck was he doing?

He knocked but again did not wait to be invited inside and opened the door and stepped inside.

Different from the last time he had seen him, Ibanescu was not sitting at his desk, but instead was lounging on the large black leather sofa that took the space underneath the large window which gave a look over the main room downstairs, and of which John knew it was mirrored from the other side. Ibanescu was wearing a black shirt of which the top buttons were open and fitted black pants, the silver streaked hair falling partly into his forehead. His right arm was draped over the backrest of the sofa, long legs crossed, and a cigarette was dangling between two fingers of his left hand.

“Gorgeous,” he drawled. “How nice you could make it.”

John’s squinted at him.

“It’s not like you left me a choice,” he said.

“It’s not like I fucking had to force you,” Ibanescu gave back, again with that weird almost casual smile on his face.

For seconds, both men stared at each other, John with a certain disgust in his expression, Ibanescu with that smug smile on his lips, while taking a drag of his cigarette.

“These are for you,” John said, raising the hand in which he held the envelope and threw the manila folder onto the desk. “Even Steven.”

Ibanescu tilted the head to the side.

“Never understood that fucking saying. Who the fuck is Steven?” Ibanescu meant.

John frowned and pointed his hand towards the envelope.

“Don’t you want to check the papers?”

Ibanescu shook his head once.

“Not necessary, gorgeous,” he said. “You don’t have the fucking guts to betray me. Fucking little office mouse like you.”

John kept looking at him and then straightened his back and turned towards the door.

He said nothing, but put his hand on the doorknob, starting to open the door.

“I don’t think so,” Ibanescu said behind him, making him stop in the movement. “Lock the door, gorgeous.”

John stared at the door, unable to move. Every muscle in his body tense and a vein in his temple pulsing. Heat crept up his back, making him nauseous and his vision cloudy.

Later, he would not be able to say why he did what Ibanescu asked of him when he turned the key and locked himself into the office with a criminal he knew was probably capable of unspeakable things.

“Turn around,” came the next order and John slowly did as asked, shoulders stiff and his back tense.

Ibanescu looked at him. There was a darkness in his eyes, something feral and something that he could hardly hold back. Again, he put the cigarette to his lips and inhaled. He raised his chin, eyes not leaving John for a second, while assessing him once again.

After another drag from the cigarette, Ibanescu’s lips curled into a knowing smile.

“Strip.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what will happen in the next chapter.........yes.........exactly that 🤭


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John, you slut...

John stared at the man, who sat so casually on the couch as if he had told him to get fresh milk from the fridge instead of telling him to get undressed. For a moment, John contemplated if he should ask the criminal if he was serious, but there was no doubt about that. The predatory look in his eyes and the smirk on his lips spoke a very clear language.

He did not dare to maintain the eye contact, feeling something between worry and fear and shame, and instead lowered his head and opened his coat, shrugging out of the woolen item of clothing and put it onto the desk behind him, neatly folded, before he turned back to face Ibanescu, who again had tilted his head to the side and continued to watch him.

John swallowed and opened the first buttons of his shirt and pulled it out of his trousers, but did not take it off completely, and instead left it hanging open before he opened the buckle of his belt. His fingers trembled and felt as numb as his mind, unable to grasp what was happening here, that he was following the orders of a criminal stranger who was out for nothing but his humiliation. He wondered if Ibanescu too could hear his teeth chatter and see how his eyes felt wet with unshed tears, fighting against the shame that was crowding every thought he was able to have. John slipped out of his shoes and pushed the pants down, stepping out of them, and stood in front of the other man in shirt, socks and boxers, feeling utterly naked already. For the first time in seconds, John looked up and saw how Ibanescu was again licking his lips, looking at John from head to toes.

“I meant all of it, gorgeous,” Ibanescu said, the voice low.

The breath that left John was showing how insecure he felt, and still he raised a leg to pull off first one, and then the other sock, and then took off the shirt as well. Being left with only the boxer shorts he was wearing, he felt exposed and a part of him hoped that Ibanescu was only making a cruel joke, that he would laugh at him and call him names but not insist on…

“That too.”

John closed his eyes and hooked his thumbs into the elastic waistband of the boxers and pulled them down. Immediately his hands went between his legs and covered his genitals form Ibanescu’s eyes, certain that he would be ordered to let his hands drop and expose his whole body to the other man, but instead, Ibanescu put the cigarette out and got up. Automatically, John made a step back and felt like his heart would stop.

Slowly, Ibanescu circled him, like a wolf would circle a lamb, and John felt his eyes on every inch of his body. When fingertips touched his left hip, he inched away, trying to avoid this first physical contact, but Ibanescu tsk’ed and let his fingertips carefully glide over his waist, over to the small of his back, where the touch became that of his whole hand, gliding down almost to his buttocks but stopping there.

John felt how Ibanescu leaned closer and felt hot breath on his neck that made him shudder. He closed his eyes, urging the rising tears of humiliation away, when Ibanescu leaned in so close that he could feel the older man’s body heat on his skin, making the fine hairs stand up.

“Gorgeous,” Ibanescu whispered into his ear, again his breath hot and like a gentle caress on him, but just when John was again certain that Ibanescu would do something else, he moved away from him.

Looking over his shoulder, John watched how the Romanian went to his desk and opened a drawer, rummaging through it’s contents and then pulling something out that he threw onto the couch.

John’s eyes followed the two items that Ibanescu had thrown and widened when he recognized what it had been. A strip of condoms and a plastic bottle of lube. Again, he swallowed and fought against his instincts that screamed at him to get his clothes and run as fast as he could. Instead, he stood there in place and did not move an inch, staring at the couch, and the condoms and all wheels in his head were turning, unable to comprehend what was going to happen, what he had gotten himself into only because of one moment of weakness when he had drunk a little too much and withheld needs and desires that he had hidden for so long had resurfaced. This was all his own fault.

The thought of Ibanescu touching him, using those items on him, it scared him. It scared him to no limits, and at the same time, there was a weird feeling of anticipation rising in him. No, that was not possible. He could not allow himself to go down this path.

Suddenly, ending his thoughts, there were two hands on his hips, holding him from behind in place. Ibanescu leaned again into his personal space and blew against his neck before he pressed his soft lips to his skin and kissed his skin on the back of his neck, his tongue flicking over the spot that he had kissed. John shuddered again and tried to hold back the sigh that was pressing against his tongue, wanting to be let out, and he bit on his lower lip.

“I’m going to be so fucking good for you, gorgeous,” Ibanescu whispered against his back. “I’m going to take you apart, inch by precious inch.”

John’s instincts snapped back into existence and he moved to get away from Ibanescu, but the strong hands of the other man held him in place.

“I have terms,” John forced himself to say, trying to sound brave and confident, but his voice betrayed him with a tremble that he was not able to hide.

“I listen,” Ibanescu said, and continued to kiss his neck and shoulders, making it hard for John to concentrate on what he wanted to say.

“I…,” he started. “I will not kiss you.”

Ibanescu chuckled.

“I thought only fucking whores don’t kiss their clients,” he said. “Didn’t know you think that low of you.”

“I don’t want to taste you,” John said, now sounding a little annoyed. “I will not kiss you and I will not suck you.”

Ibanescu hummed.

“Fucking shame,” he said, now nuzzling at John’s left earlobe. “I imagined your gorgeous lips wrapped around my cock, all red and swollen from sucking me off.” He seemed to shrug. “Gonne have to do without that then.”

John frowned.

“You agree?”

Again, Ibanescu chuckled.

“Don’t be so fucking surprised, gorgeous,” he said. “I’m a lot of things. But I’m not a fucking rapist. No kissing, no sucking. Anything else?”

John considered to tell him that he did not want any of this, that he felt like he was raped and at the same time he knew that any attempt to escape from this room, from the other man, would be futile, and so he shook his head in resignation.

“Good,” Ibanescu meant, his hands moving agonizingly slow over John’s sides and more to the front, where he reached around him and let the palms of his hands move over John’s pectoral muscles, before his fingers started to tease his already reacting nipples. Again Ibanescu hummed in agreement, finding the younger man’s body reacting to his ministrations. John wondered if he could sense how much strength he needed to not let out the moans and sighs his mind wanted to force him into, still biting his lips and certain that he would draw blood from them sooner or later. “So fucking good. Get on the sofa.”

John felt his heart skip a beat, felt his knees go weak for a second, but then he remembered that he could not show Ibanescu his weakness, and made the few steps forward until he had reached the couch. When he started to turn to sit down, it was Ibanescu’s hands that stopped him and held him in place, again the caress of breath on his neck.

“No. Kneel on it, hands on the back rest,” he was ordered.

Again, every rest of his efficient and reasonable self was screaming at him to stop doing these things, and again, his mind and body were not listening. He put first one knee on the cold dark leather, then the other and let now finally go of his cock and balls and put his hands onto the back, making him face the window to the main room. The knowledge that he could see guests and Ibanescu’s employees down there but they could not see him was something he was not quite able to grasp, and this level of exhibitionism was something that went against anything that had ever turned him on, and he felt sick in his stomach.

“They can’t see you, gorgeous,” Ibanescu said behind him, seemingly able to read his thoughts. “I can get the curtains if it bothers you.”

John though shook his head, not happy that the criminal had sensed how uneasy he felt. A hand touched the inside of one of his thighs, pressing against it to urge him to spread his legs a little and get into a more comfortable position, and John followed the silent instruction.

The next second, he was not able to stop the deep gasp when a finger touched his crack, pushing between his cheeks and when another finger followed, he felt them being pulled apart and exposed to Ibanescu’s eyes. He felt vulnerable and weak and found himself panting slightly, when the tip of one of Ibanescu’s fingers met his hole, making it quiver at the touch and his muscles grow immediately tense. The finger left him and a moment later returned, a little wet and he knew that Ibanescu had put spit on his digit that now pressed to the first knuckle inside him. John held his breath, unable to move, not wanting to show any reaction, but every inch of his body was already on fire.

“So tight,” Ibanescu whispered and John felt his breath on his ass, showing him how close the man was to him. “Does nobody do you good, gorgeous? Doesn’t your Lisa fuck you with a plastic dick like Elena did?”

“Leave…leave Lisa out of this,” John said, not liking to be reminded that back at him his fiancée was sleeping in their bed, unaware of the shameful things he allowed himself to be done to.

“What would your precious lady say if she saw you like this?”

“I said…oh my God,” John said, his eyes wide open when Ibanescu forced his finger completely into his cavity and held still for a moment, feeling the tightness and heat of the advisor’s body- John’s hands cramped into the leather, his knuckles turning white, fingers ice cold and could not help but move his hips backwards, all instincts wanting more, needing more.

“Mmmh,” Ibanescu made, pressing a kiss on John’s ass, moving his finger that soon was joined with a second, stretching and opening him further. “You should fucking see this, so fucking perfect.” Another kiss to the other ass cheek followed, and then the tip of the Romanian’s tongue touched John’s stretched opening.

He held his breath, leaning his head down onto the back rest as well, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open. He hated himself for reacting at all, hated himself for acting like he wanted this, and maybe, just maybe, there was a part that did just that. Ibanescu licked around his rim, the tongue flicking against his puckered skin, making his bones melt.

Soon, the fingers left him and he almost had begged them to return, but instead, Ibanescu started to tongue his hole, invade him with wet heat and began to lick him further open. The slurping sound from his backside, the soft hum that Ibanescu made while eating him out, it robbed John’s senses and he whimpered against his own arm, trying everything possible to hold back the sounds of his increasing and still unwelcome arousal.

“You taste fucking perfect,” Ibanescu whispered against him, his own voice starting to sound heavy with arousal as well. “Did you clean yourself out for me, gorgeous?” His hand caressed his right cheek, while he again licked over the center of his growing pleasure. “If I had fucking known you are this much of a fucking slut, I would have taken you days ago there over my desk. Hm? Do you like that thought, gorgeous? Being fucked raw over my desk? Or should I visit you in your posh office, surrounded by all those fucking important people? Would you bite down onto your arm then too or would you allow me to make you fucking scream?” Again, he licked right into him and John let out another whimper. “I’m going to make you scream, gorgeous. I’m going to make you scream my name.”

One of Ibanescu’s hands reached between John’s legs and touched his heavy and drawn up balls, sensitive to the touch and again John could not help but whimper helplessly.

“Is there any part of you that is not fucking perfect?” Ibanescu asked, weighing John’s balls in his hand.

“I…,” John found himself saying, not able to believe he was actually going to answer to that absurdity.

“Shhh,” Ibanescu made. “Look how fucking hard you already are.”

John held his breath with the strong hand of the other man went up his indeed hardened cock, fingertips grazing the hard length and finally reaching the burning hot tip.

“Look how wet you are for me, gorgeous,” Ibanescu whispered, smearing the leaking pre cum over the length of John’s shaft, using it instead of lube to jerk him more smoothly, until suddenly the hand was gone.

Confused, John looked back over his shoulder and saw how Ibanescu was licking his thumb and then his glistening lips, tasting John on his tongue, his trademark smirk on his lips.

“Turn around, John,” Ibanescu told him, and John struggled with weak legs to comply, covering himself again with a hand, which made Ibanescu raise his brows before he said: “Touch yourself for me.”

John gasped again and then just did what he had been asked to. Reluctantly, he stopped covering himself from Ibanescu’s gaze and instead started to slowly stroke himself, finding himself hot and hard, his cock resting against his stomach. He could not remember when the last time had been that he had been this hard, and he could not help moan and lean his head back while his legs trembled in arousal.

“You are so beautiful,” Ibanescu said while standing up from his kneeing position and started to open his shirt, while his predatory eyes were still on John who continued to stroke himself, shame and guilt overpowered by the intensity of desire that had taken over. “You’re going to look so fucking good on my cock.”

Ibanescu shrugged out of the black shirt he had been wearing and opened his trousers while stepping out of his shoes.

“I had planned to fuck you wearing clothes,” he said, pulling the boxer briefs he was wearing down his hips and uncovered his erect and impressive manhood, a sight that made John shiver. “Would be a shame though to get stains on the fucking expensive stuff.”

Both men stared at each other for seconds, eyes on the other one’s cock and body, before Ibanescu again went down to his knees between John’s spread thighs and pulled him to the edge of the seat, lining himself up with one hand after he had covered himself with a condom and used only little lube and pushed into John with one slow push.

John bit again down on his lip, eyes closed, head in his neck, hands searching helplessly for something to hold onto and finally grasping into the leather beneath him. Ibanescu was panting when he bottomed out in John, the tightness robbing his senses while John was close to passing out from the small line between pleasure and pain, every cell of his body burning and the girth of Ibanescu’s shaft stretching him to his limit. The older man held John’s thighs spread apart and then started to pull out, just as slow as he had pushed in, and repeated the movement a few times, his eyes always on John, watching his reaction, the shivers that went over his body, the flush on his cheeks, the opened mouth that was not openly moaning.

Following the next pull out, Ibanescu pushed not slowly back in, but slammed into John, whose eyes flew open and loud gasp left his throat. Within seconds, Ibanescu had started to fuck him hard and deep, at a merciless pace that John could not fight. It felt so good, it felt so wrong. He should feel ashamed and instead he felt nothing but need and lust. His right hand covered his mouth, biting into his wrist, trying to force the screams that were now leaving him down, while the other finally went to touch Ibanescu for the first time, holding onto his arm, feeling soft skin and hard muscle, touching for the first time the man that was fucking him like there was no tomorrow.

Ibanescu’s right hand went over John’s torso, touching nipples and tweaking the hard buds, until he grabbed the back of his neck, bending a little downwards, and with a hard pull got John to sit further up, sinking against his body and pressing their chests against each other. The hair on Ibanescu’s chest was soft and John found himself further aroused by the unknown feeling of touching it, holding onto the other man’s shoulders while he was taken apart by the steely shaft that was forcing it’s way inside his body, over and over again.

“Oh God,” John moaned against Ibanescu’s shoulder when the other hit his prostate right on and made him see stars, never missing a beat in the vigorous fuck he was giving John, pleasuring himself but also the man that had been so reluctant before.

“So perfect,” Ibanescu whispered against his ear. “So…fucking…perfect.”

And with those words, he shoved John back and pulled completely out, turning them in one smooth movement so that John was on top of him and guided the smaller man to ride him, pushing upwards and right back into the still so tight sheath of John’s body, only little loosened by the invasion of his own hardness.

John stared down at Ibanescu, one hand on his chest, fingers curling into the hair that was now damp with sweat, and allowed his hips to sink further down, taking all of the other man. He wanted to arch his head back, wanted to close his eyes in bliss, wanted to devour the feeling of being filled and taken apart, and instead he could only stare down at the older man, whose silvery hair was a mess already and whose strange whiskey colored eyes were looking up at him with that stupid smile. The smile of a man that had won, which meant that John had lost.

Still, he could not bring himself to stop and started to move his hips first in small circles, then used the leverage his knees on the couch gave him and moved himself off Ibanescu’s cock and back down, each filling robbing more of his control, fingers pulling at the chest hair of the other man who steadied him with his hands on John’s hips. Finally, Ibanescu sat up, pulling John close to him and kissed his chest, sucked a nipple into his mouth and bit playfully down, urging more moans from John’s lips, while he now put his hands into Ibanescu’s surprisingly silky hair, his head leaned forward and his forehead resting against the other man’s, their breaths mixing and becoming one as their bodies long had done. He felt the hot, panting breath against his neck, then felt how Ibanescu raised his head and looked right into his eyes, both moments away from their climax, lips hovering over each other, almost touching, almost…

It was Ibanescu who suddenly pushed hard upwards, breaking the spell they had both found themselves in, and made John scream like he had promised he would, John’s head bent back, and his whole body rigid while spending his seed, coming without having been touched, onto their bodies. He panted heavily, his vision clouded and trembling, shivering, while Ibanescu made a few more pushes up into his overstimulated body until he filled the condom with his own release, letting out a grunt and load moan, his face buried in John’s chest, fingers digging into the man’s back.

For long moments they remained still, not able to move, not able to breathe, their bodies still intimately connected, until a terrible realization hit John about where he was and who he was with, and he scrambled to get off Ibanescu, to get away from him, out of his warmth and his touch. Away from things that he could not allow himself to want or need.

Moving off Ibanescu’s lap, the still half hard cock slipping out of his ass, he fell to the floor and crawled away, tears on his face. His fingers dig into the carpet underneath him, fighting to regain the control that had left him, something that turned him into someone he did not want to be any more. Someone he had long forgotten ever existed and locked out, thrown away the key and was not willing to let back in. Until Ibanescu had read just by looking onto his face what his utmost desires were, fulfilling them without him understand what he had done to John.

Ibanescu looked down at him, leaned back on the couch, long legs stretched out, a little spread and his softening cock resting on his thigh, still panting from the exertion the fuck had put them both through. He touched languidly his own cock, pulling off the condom and throwing it carelessly somewhere to the side, giving himself a few strokes.

“I knew you would be fucking good, born to be fucked,” he said, again smirking, while John was kneeing on the floor, trying to catch his breath, trying to regain his usually so well-kept composure. “Can’t wait to fuck you on a real bed. You’d look fucking gorgeous on silken sheets.”

John stared at him.

“Our deal is done,” he whispered, his voice rough and hoarse, exhaustion mirroring in it.

Ibanescu laughed.

He laughed at him.

“Done?” He sassed. “We’re far from being done, Johnny.”

John froze.

“Don’t call me that,” he whispered, head again lowered, not daring to watch that triumphant expression on Ibanescu’s face, his voice an angry hiss. “Don’t ever call me that again.”

Ibanescu tilted again his head a little to the side, unbeknownst to John who had balled his hands into fists and was staring at the floor before he got to his wobbly feet and picked his clothing up, getting dressed as fast as he could, forgoing his socks and ripped the coat from the desk so fast that papers went flying.

“Always a fucking pleasure,” Ibanescu said behind him. “See you soon…Johnny.”

John’s held the doorknob in his hand, considering to tell Ibanescu once more to never again call him by the dreaded nickname that he was not allowed to use, that nobody was allowed to use, but then, without turning around another time, fled the office, smashing the door shut while Ibanescu got up, naked as the day he was born, and went to light a cigarette, blowing out the smoke, turning the laptop on and opened the security video that had been recorded in his office in the past hour, checking if everything had been recorded like he had wanted to.

“Johnny, Johnny,” he whispered with a smile and closed the lid, licking his lips and chasing the taste of the other man’s skin.

John ran downstairs, not caring about people he bumped into, like hell was on his heels. He needed to get out, needed to get away, as fast and as far as humanly possible, and finally cold night air hit him when he pushed himself out of the frontdoor outside. He had to steady himself with one hand against a lamp, the head bowed down, still panting from the fuck he had just shared and from running. Nausea hit him. Unbearable and stomach turning, his head was spinning and a hammering headache, a sudden migraine attack, hit him.

Still holding the lamppost, he emptied his stomach into the curb, gagging and feeling sick.

“Everything okay?” The bouncer asked behind him, having followed him out. “Saw you running out, I hope the bossman is still alive,” he chuckled.

John looked up, confusion on his face.

“What?” He asked, then understanding that fleeing Ibanescu’s office like this might have looked suspicious. “Yes. Yes, your boss is still alive.”

“Good. Was worried I would lose my job if you killed him. Everything okay with you? You look like shit. Too much liquor, huh?”

John shook his head and forced himself to stand up straight.

Not caring any longer about the man a second longer and tried to get to his car with fast steps, but still felt unsteady and weak, but finally he sat down behind the steering wheel and closed the door. His hands were again balled into fists, and when he looked up into the mirror, a man looked back at him he did not recognize. His face was pale, but in his eyes was a glint that he had not seen in many year. A spark. Something he had no words for. On the side of his neck, right below his ear a red spot was shining, the first hint that Ibanescu had sucked a hickey into his skin at some point that he had not even noticed in his lust crazed mind. Shit. He cursed at himself, turning his head so he could get a better look at the spot and cursed again. Maybe it would look just like a bruise and he could tell Lisa that he had bumped into something. She would never expect that he had cheated on her, she was not the jealous type and never had been.

He remembered the feeling of Ibanescu’s hot lips on his skin, the way he had held him, touched him, and kissed his chest and, oh God, the feeling of his cock in his still sore ass. John was certain that he would limp for days, and he somehow wished that he could let himself feel the bliss of being well-fucked and taken apart, could dwell in the feeling of the satisfying comfort that the aftermath of a great orgasm should give him. But he could not. He could not allow Ibanescu to have this power over him.

For a moment, John remembered this feeling. The feeling of being complete, like something had been missing from his life after…

But that was impossible.

He had looked to fill the blank. With work. With Lisa. With other’s that had come and gone before her. And he had never found anything that felt like it was able to stop the nightmares, to stop the pain. Until today.

Of all people in the world, it was not possible that a criminal like Ibanescu was able to give him something that had been lacking from his life. A man who had blackmailed him only into having sex with him, the only reason possible for this being that he was mocking him, would probably tell his criminal friends about the politician who had degraded himself into the fuck toy of a criminal, a pimp, a drug dealer, possibly a killer and whatever else Ibanescu’s resume had to offer.

Shame burned in John’s head.

He shuddered at the thought of Ibanescu’s eyes on him, the way he had looked up at him in those last moments of them being one, the softness and almost admiration in his eyes, the smile suddenly no longer a cruel curl, but a gentle caress.

If only he had taken him from behind.

If only he had not had to see the expression of lust that must have mirrored his own.

If only he had not given himself over to this long forgotten desire.

If only he had not let go.

If only he had not lost control.

If only…

Hot tears streamed down John’s face, feeling shame and deep humiliation and at the same time he felt more satisfied than he had been in many, many years.

Ibanescu.

What was that power that the stranger, that criminal, that bloody asshole, had over him?

What was it that made John want to go back inside and have more unspeakable things done to him?

What was it that Ibanescu had done to him anyway?

Ibanescu.

_Nigel._


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John's political views are NOT mine!

The next days were at best awkward for John.

He could thank whoever was responsible for twists of fate for Lisa having already left when he returned home and after getting out of his clothes, all of which had been smelling of cigarette smoke somehow, had spent the next hour in the shower. He had been sitting on the floor, curled into himself, arms wrapped around his knees and stared at an invisible spot at the tiled wall.

He was shaking and even though his head felt dizzy and eyes were somehow itching, he had not been able to spend more tears. His whole body was sore, he felt used and dirty, and at the same time, he felt good. And he did not want to feel that way. He did not want to give Nigel that power over him.

In his mind, he had started to call Ibanescu by his first name, not that he would ever admit to that. But after all, the man had fucked him. Had taken him apart without putting him back together.

With a sigh, John tilted his head into his neck and let the warm water spray hit his face, mouth open and his eyes shut, wanting the memory of Nigel’s hands, lips and cock on him to be washed away. But it did not work.

Nigel stayed. And John hated the other man only more for that.

Hated him for what he had done to him.

And hated himself for having it not only allowed, but taken part in his humiliation.

What was wrong with him?

What was it that Nigel had triggered in him to turn him into a purely physical being when he usually prided himself to be a man of wits and brains?

John sighed and rubbed the water off his face, only to be replaced with more since the shower spray continued to rain down on him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, John got back up to his feet and left the shower, got dressed and went to work as if nothing happened.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The meeting he found himself in a few days later was boring him to no limits.

The president’s level of understanding what was going on and what would be important to consider for his upcoming journey to the Middle East had been reached after the first sentence and John could not help but roll his eyes inwardly at the country’s ruler, and at some of the other advisors who were having their heads so far up the president’s ass that they could lick his tonsils. Not that he did not do that too, but at least his behavior was a well-trained act and not just the ignorance and stupidity that the other advisors wore like a medal.

John was leaned back in his chair, sitting opposite Brian, who was making notes, always the eager busy bee, while someone was talking about something that John was not in the least interested in and had started to blend out the man’s words minutes ago.

“What do you say, John?”

He raised his brows in interest and turned to look at Wellington who was looking right at him with something that resembled a smirk.

“About?” He asked, not even trying to hide that he was not listening.

“About the meeting that President Hayes will have with G’ulom,” the Chief of Staff said, still smiling. “What is your opinion about the negotiations that will take place?”

John returned the smile, no doubt that there was nothing friendly between them, looking the other man right into the eyes before he turned his attention towards the president.

“Sir, with all due respect, I think honestly that it’s the wrong move to crawl up that man’s, that terrorist’s ass.”

Wellington’s brows shot up.

“We have to assume that he had a hand in President Warner’s unfortunate demise,” John said, looking still at the president who shifted in his seat. “That man cannot be trusted and I don’t think that we should give the signal that we work closely with the sorts of him.”

“The sorts of him?” Wellington asked. “What do you mean by that?”

John smiled again before his face turned for a moment into a mask of anger and disgust.

“Terrorists, David,” he said. “People that endanger the safety we provide in our country. The United States is and always has had the position to not negotiate with terrorists. We hunt them down and take them out. Do I have to name the threats we got rid of? My position, and I will not change this, is to not bow down in front of someone like this. My position is to show them who we are, what power we have and that they are nothing but primitive, backward enemies of every free country.” John turned again to look at Wellington. “Those fucking turban-headed assholes need a fucking punch in the nose.”

Wellington raised a brow.

“I say,” John continued. “We show them that we are strong. That we will not give in to terrorists and that we are the ones to make demands.”

The men and women at the conference table remained silent, several eyes on John, who smirked at David and then at the president who slowly nodded.

“I think it’s time for a short break,” Hayes then said, and everyone got ready to get up and leave the room.

John as well was putting his papers into a folder and got up to leave, but at the door, Wellington stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“A word, John,” he said and John gave him a nod and went beside him to spot in the hallway that was not crowded with people. “You have there a very radical view on foreign politics for a foreign politics advisor.”

John smiled, which seemed to make Wellington uneasy.

“I only offered my point of view,” he said. “It’s the president’s choice what he will make of it.”

Wellington looked at him.

“I’ve known you in passing for years, John,” he said. “I remember the young man you were when you started your work for the State Department. How old were you?”

“Around 23,” John offered. “It’s an eternity ago.”

“You changed,” Wellington said. “You were a very bright young man, a bright talent at the political horizon and there were people who had high hopes in you and your career. You are sabotaging yourself with the way you are thinking.”

“Are you trying to suggest to me to pretend I think differently?”

“I suggest you overthink your position. What the world does not need is another war, which could possibly turn into a worldwide affair.”

John chuckled.

“You overestimate me, David,” he meant. “I do not hold that power. I am in no position to influence the president, I am only offering a different point of view from all the brown-nosers that are surrounding him.”

Wellington nodded and looked at John, right into his eyes, as if he was looking for something.

John was just about to say something when he phone beeped in his pocket, indicating he had received a message. He only pulled it out for a moment, looked at the name in the display and put it back into his pocket.

“Nothing important?” Wellington asked.

John shook his head.

“Nobody important, no,” he said. “I need to make a call before we continue the meeting, please excuse me, David.”

Not waiting for a reply from the older man, who he had known since the day he had set first foot into the State Department, back when he had been a nobody, surprised that David even remembered him from back then, he left the hallway and went downstairs where he left the building and sat down on a small garden wall, pulling his phone back out.

There were two missed calls from Lisa, and three missed calls from Nigel, as well as several messages that build quite the backlog in his texting app. The texts from Lisa only asked him to remember her parent’s barbeque in the upcoming week and that he needed to change his schedule to be able to attend as he had promised. The texts from Nigel though, they spoke a different language.

He had not spoken to the Romanian since the night in which they had sex, and had ignored the texts, which seemed to annoy Nigel and upset him. There had been threats, but so far Nigel had not acted on them. Instead his texts were switching between more threats and blunt flirting. Had it not been so disgusting to be wooed by a criminal who was blackmailing him, it would have been funny.

John sighed when he looked at the texts he received this afternoon, feeling again this weird flutter in his stomach.

_John_

_Johnny_

_You know I can fucking see that you read my texts_

_Don’t fucking pretend to not read this_

_Woke up this morning with a fucking hard-on thinking of you_

_You fucking amazing around my cock_

_So tight and hot_

John swallowed and felt heat in his cheeks.

_I know you felt fucking good too_

_Felt you tremble and push back_

_You fucked yourself on me, Johnny_

_Such a needy little slut_

_Are you at work?_

_Are you sitting at a table with all those fucking important people you work with?_

_What would they think if they knew you like it up the ass?_

_That you get off being fucked hard and deep_

_Making you whimper and moan like a fucking bitch in heat_

_Getting hard thinking about fucking you again_

_I’m fucking tempted to send you a fucking dick pic_

_But no_

_Can’t wait to fucking have you again_

_Spread out on silk_

_Open for my cock_

_Begging me to get fucked_

_Oh Johnny_

_What would you say if I fucking told you I just came thinking of you?_

_Are you proud?_

_You’re really fucking something, Johnny_

_So_

_Stop ignoring me and come back here_

_You fucking know you want it_

_You fucking want it bad_

_You fucking need it bad_

John looked at the last text, only sent a few minutes ago while he had been talking to Wellington. He felt that Nigel was waiting for him to reply. That he was sitting, maybe in his office, with his phone in his hands, waiting for John to react, to admit that he was right.

How much he hated the power that Nigel already had over him.

How much he hated to admit that a few of the things that Nigel had sent him were indeed not far from the truth.

He closed his eyes and sighed, immediately remembering Nigel’s weirdly gently hands on his skin, causing him to shudder at the memory.

Again, he took his phone up and looked at the screen and found himself replying.

_I’m in a meeting with the President_

That should be enough to make Nigel have respect and understand that he was not his toy, that he was not available.

It took only seconds before Nigel replied. Part of John did not want to read what the criminal had to say, part of him needed to see it.

_I’m fucking impressed_

_Then come back here when you’re fucking finished_

_Won’t take forever_

_I want you_

John read the lines again. And a third time.

Before he could reply, he saw Brian standing at the door, waving at him, indicating that the meeting was continuing and that he needed to return. He pressed his lips together while getting up and texted then quickly one more sentence.

_I’ll be there later_

He closed his eyes after he hit send and put the phone back into his pocket, but the moment he let go of it, it buzzed with an incoming message and while he went back inside, he pulled it again out, looking at what message he had gotten.

_I’ll be waiting for you, gorgeous_

John felt anxious and nervous, as if he was looking forward to a romantic date with the woman he loved and not to another hook-up with a criminal that was threatening to ruin his life.

What the fuck was wrong with him?


	7. Chapter 7

John did not drive to Nigel’s that night.

Or the following nights.

He could not ever again go down that path, so he decided only a few minutes after he sent the last text to Nigel.

He had spent the rest of the meeting shifting uncomfortably in his chair, not just because the thought of being again with Nigel aroused him, which it did, but because the fear of meeting the Romanian again scared him. It had been Wellington’s words that had reminded him that he once had been someone else. A useless, doomed skin he had slipped out of like he would slip out of unwanted clothes, and he had no intention to ever put that suit on again. There was nothing that had been good about his old self, about the young man that Wellington remembered, and in the past years he had not spent a single second thinking about it.

And so he decided that if Nigel wanted to publish the video, he would have already done it after he had ignored him for several days. But even the threat had not been mentioned a single time.

Typical.

All bark but no bite, like many of those who thought of themselves as big players. Nigel was a nobody who thought he could play with the big boys and John refused to be scared of a man like him. Instead, he was only scared of whatever change Nigel was able to cause in him.

H could never be that again. He could not allow Nigel to change him back into something that he despised and was glad had gotten rid of.

He could never see him again. No matter how much his body seemed to be out of control when he thought of the reactions that Nigel had dragged from him.

He would never allow him to get close to John and never allow him to touch or, God beware, even fuck him again.

He would not react to threats and texts, and would just go on with his life.

Fishing his phone of out his pocket, he looked at the screen. There were no new texts from Nigel, probably because he had calmed down after John had announced that he would come to see him tonight, and then he made the decision to block him.

As soon as he had added Nigel’s contact to his blocked contacts, a heavy burden fell off his shoulders and he could not help but smile to himself.

When he looked up, he saw Wellington looking at him, curiosity in his clear eyes and something else that John could not quite understand. Worry. Probably the older man feared for his influence on the president, who was not as bright as a man in his position should have been. Still, John respected either man, even if he had not the best of opinions about them. Hayes was an idiot, but an idiot with power. Wellington was a smart man though, and John was aware that if he wanted to progress in his career, he had to watch the Chief of Staff closely.

He put his phone back into his pocket, still smiling and looking up when he was addressed to give his opinion on something that had been discussed.

He would not see Nigel – no _Ibanescu_ – ever again.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

But of course everything would turn out different than had been planned.

John had been watching his phone with worry, almost anxious every time he received a text, aware that it would be easy for Nigel, no for Ibanescu, to take some else’s phone with a not blocked number to use it to contact him. But the Romanian did not, which surprised John. He seemed to have overestimated the criminal and his interest in him. After all, John had been a toy for him, just a distraction, a pastime, and nothing else. What had he even expected? That Nigel would rush into his office and demand that he continued whatever was between them? Ridiculous.

No. He should be happy about the radio silence between them. He should return to enjoying the life he had so thoroughly planned out for himself.

A week later he found himself in the Hamptons, attending the garden party that his future in-laws had invited not only him and Lisa too but also a selection of important people. Political friends of the governor, family friends and some people that John had only seen so far in the gossip columns of magazines he would never admit he was reading. People it would not hurt having connections with.

Dressed in a dark blue suit that he knew brought out his eyes in a pleasant way and a striped shirt underneath he looked his best. The beard was trimmed and his hair gelled back a little. Still, when he looked into the mirror of the bath that belonged to the guest room he and Lisa were staying in, he found his reflection to look tired and years older than he really was. He was only turning forty in a few months, and still he looked ten years older. Everything boyish about him, something he had once prided himself to show, the promise that he would age well, was gone and hidden behind the face of the politician he had never wanted to become. Sometimes, he thought of someone else, thought about what they would think about them, they would laugh and tell him that he was an idiot.

A thought he shrugged off and took another sip of the fresh-tasting cocktail, some lemony thing with watermelon balls in it, and looked at the people surrounding him, engaged in busy chatter. Once upon a time he had hated parties like this, hated to make small talk, but he had by now acquired the ability to fit in. His smile was pleasant, and he managed to look interested even if the topic people were talking about was ridiculous at best.

Lisa was at his side, wearing a gorgeous white sundress with light blue flowers printed onto the fabric, somewhat matching his outfit without making the impression that they had coordinated their clothing, but he knew that Lisa had done exactly that. A part of him thought that a couple that was well-functioning would automatically look like they belonged together, another part knew by now that that was an illusion.

Nobody was able to see that the smile he gave the woman that was talking to him and Lisa was a mask he was wearing, while he listened with not even half an ear to the woman informing him that the renovations on her summer home on the Bahamas were going not as she had assumed and that the cost had already doubled. He nodded politely and took another sip of the drink, praying that he would be able to find something stronger soon.

He looked around, blending out the laughter that left Lisa’s lips and then froze.

There was a man talking to Lisa’s father, to the governor. He was tall, was wearing jeans and a patterned shirt with short sleeves. Something about the man bothered him, the way he held himself, the hair, the way he let a hand ran through those strands while he seemed to listen to something the governor said, until the older man patted his arm, laughing and then went pat him to welcome someone else and the stranger, the other man turned to his side for a moment.

John stopped breathing.

“Excuse me for a moment,” he said, staring at the man who was holding a bottle of beer in his hand and took a large gulp from his, eyes having found John over the distance and an unmistakable smirk on his lips.

“Pookie?” Lisa asked.

“I have to talk to someone, darling,” he said and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I’m back in a moment, you won’t even notice I was gone.”

She nodded and then watched how he left her side and made his way through the groups of party guests until he had reached the man who was still grinning at him with a smug expression.

“What the fuck are you doing here? And what are you wearing?” John asked when he reached him.

But instead of answering, he raised the beer bottle back to his lips and actually licked the bottleneck for a second before he put those lips around the neck and drank some more, his eyes constantly on John.

"That's my fucking favorite shirt,” Nigel answered, looking down at him with an expression of pride.

John followed his look, blinking at the atrocity that was a light blue shirt with…were those colorful dachshunds printed on it? He shook his head for a moment and looked back up at Nigel’s face, the still smug grin.

"What. Are. You. Doing. Here?" He hissed.

"Enjoying a fucking sunny day with some fucking great barbeque,” Nigel said. “The beer is actually fucking great, could be a bit colder though.”

John stared at him.

“Ibanescu…,” he began but was interrupted.

“Nigel.”

John sighed inwardly.

“Nigel,” he accepted the correction, knowing a discussion was useless. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Nigel raised his brows.

“Isn’t that fucking obvious?” He asked. “I thought a presidential advisor was fucking smarter than that. I’m a guest at a party.”

John leaned closer and pushed his shoulder against Nigel, then grabbing his arm to lead him with him away, making it look like they had to discuss something nobody was supposed to hear. A final push against Nigel’s back maneuvered him around the corner where he suspected he would find fewer people. He continued to push and shove Nigel until they had reached the terrace and he had managed to push Nigel into the large living room.

“What the fuck are you doing here!?” John now yelled, certain that nobody but servants were able to hear him here.

Nigel put the bottle down only to pick up a framed photograph that showed the governor with his wife, Lisa, and John.

“Nice family,” Nigel meant, putting the frame back down. “You fucking didn’t show up to out date, gorgeous.”

John blinked at him.

“Date?” He asked. “Date?! We never had a fucking date, Nigel! You fucking forced me to do those things. You fucking raped me!”

With two long steps, Nigel was right in front of him, their chests always against each other.

“Never fucking say that again,” he snarled into John’s face, while his right hand grabbed the left side of John’s hip and pulled him closer so that their bodies finally met.

A shuddering breath left John the moment he felt Nigel’s body pressed against his and for a second he wanted to give in, but instead he made a step back, then another, bringing distance between each other, raising both hands.

“Don’t. Do. That,” he whispered. “Don’t ever touch me again.”

Nigel tilted his head to the side, obviously amused, but in his eyes something else flickered for a second, something that John had not the right word for. There was no way that someone like Nigel Ibanescu was…uncertain.

“You know I fucking want you,” Nigel said. “And I know you fucking want it too.”

“I don’t,” John said. “It was a mistake. You blackmailed me.”

Nigel nodded.

“That I did,” he admitted. “And I’m not beyond blackmailing you again if I have to if I’m fucking honest. But, Johnny, the next time I fuck you, you will ask me to fuck you. You will never again call me a fucking rapist, is that clear?”

John again started at him and then he found himself slowly nodding.

“I’m not a rapist,” Nigel snarled. “I will not lie, I want to fuck you in any way possible, but I definitely will never fucking force you. Well,” he chuckled. “At least not like that.”

John could not help roll his eyes and to his own surprise remained standing where he was when Nigel made a step towards him and hooked a finger into one of John’s belt loops. The older man licked his lips and looked at John’s mouth.

“Shit, I really fucking want to kiss you,” he said, but John shook his head.

“We had a deal. No kissing. No blowing,” John whispered but inched himself a little closer, feeling Nigel’s body heat and then the push of his hips against his own.

“I fucking want you,” Nigel whispered.

John shook his head.

“No, we can’t…not here,” he said. “Lisa…”

Nigel smirked.

“Yeah, precious Lisa. She’s pretty. Seems a little vacant in her fucking pretty head.”

John frowned.

“You have not talked to her. Or, have you?”

Nigel licked a wet, tingling stripe along John’s left ear that made him shiver.

“Hmm,” he made. “Not yet. I fucking want to get to know her. Do you make your pretty lady scream, Johnny?”

“Don’t…call me that, oh my God,” John moaned when Nigel nibbled at his earlobe, his hands finding Nigel’s hips, eyes falling shut. “Don’t talk about her.”

Again, Nigel hummed, turning his head a little until his lips were unbearably close to John’s. One movement, one single breath, and he would be kissing Nigel.

One breath…

A sound from his left startled John and he almost jumped away from Nigel, both of them looking into the direction where the sound had come from and saw a waiter carrying a tray through the living room outside, only acknowledging the two men with a short look but ignoring them otherwise.

As soon as he had left the room, Nigel and John looked back at each other, both panting a little from the surprise and fear of being found out, and also from the arousal that was creeping up in both of them.

“Where?” Nigel asked.

John stared at him like he had lost his mind, but then he was suddenly aware that there was only one answer to this question.

“Come,” he said and turned, walking with determined steps into the hallway, listening shortly there was someone else and finally pushing open the door to the small guest bathroom.

Nigel again had a brow raised in obvious amusement.

“Not where I fucking wanted you,” he said, pushing John into the small room and shutting the door behind him, locking it. “But it’ll fucking do.”

And with those words, he was on him, pushing John against the wall and grinding his groin against his own, making him feel that he was already getting hard just at the thought of having him soon again.

John moaned, his hands grabbing Nigel’s shoulders, pulling at that ridiculous shirt, while Nigel already was ripping open the buttons of his own shirt, exposing his smooth chest to his intrusive fingers that ran over his skin, finding quickly his nipples that begged to be teased until John moaned and let his head fall back, hitting the wall with a loud smack. He could not care less about the short pain, his own fingers pulling at Nigel’s belt, fingering open the buckle and pushing the jeans over the hips of the other man, his briefs following and exposing the now hard cock, wrapping a hand around the shaft and pumping several times, making Nigel hiss and groan against his neck, where he had made himself busy sucking a new hickey into his skin where the old one had long faded, another thing John could not bring himself to care about.

“So fucking eager,” Nigel whispered against his ear, his hot breath shivering and not leaving a doubt about his own arousal and need to feel. “You want this so fucking bad, Johnny.”

“Don’t,” John moaned as Nigel pulled his blue slacks and boxers down with one movement and cool air hit his hardened shaft that Nigel immediately covered with his hand. “Call me that.”

Nigel chuckled.

“One day I will find out what it fucking is with the name,” he whispered, aware that a loud word, a loud moan could be heard from the other side of the door where any moment someone could stand or pass.

Both men pumped each other, jerked each other, John realizing that while Nigel had fucked him, he had not touched him yet intimately, and enjoyed somewhat the silky skin in his hands, the foreskin he pulled back and let his thumb run circles over the glistening head. Nigel closed his eyes and moaned, his cheek leaning against John’s, wanting him as close as possible without kissing him.

“Please tell me you got condoms,” John whispered, spreading his legs when Nigel went to cup his balls and pulled gently at the sensitive orbs.

Nigel chuckled.

“You honestly think I came unprepared when I know how fucking gorgeous you are?”

John looked at the other man, the brown eyes wide and darker than they usually were, his lips so tempting, so kissable, seductive and erotic. But no. Not that. Everything but not that.

Seconds later, he found himself pushed against the wall, struggling to get out of his pants and then two of Nigel’s wet fingers – when had he had the time to cover them with whatever? – pushing against his entrance and then entering him with a painful sting that he did not care about. Instead, he pushed his hips towards the intrusion, taking both of Nigel’s fingers immediately deep and he had to raise a hand and bite into his palm to stop himself from crying out when Nigel found quickly that spot inside him that whitened out his vision.

Nigel continued to finger him open, not wasting any time, aware that they were on a schedule here and had only minutes until John would be missed by someone and if he wanted to end this the intended way, he had to hurry up. He scissored his finger in John’s tightness until he had at least the impression that pushing his cock inside him would not cause him considerable pain. He fished with one hand in the pocket of his jeans and pulled a condom out, which made John, still panting, raise a brow.

“Said I’m fucking prepared,” Nigel murmured and wrapped himself up, grabbing a bottle of hand lotion from a shelf and lubed himself up with it, shrugging and chuckling at the flowery scent. “Gonna smell like a fucking garden.”

John rolled his eyes and then gasped when Nigel picked him up and brought his hips to the same level as his and pushed in without preamble.

His hands found Nigel’s broad shoulders, holding on for dear life and Nigel did again waste no time and started to fuck into him hard and fast, as deep as he could get, while John grabbed a handful of Nigel’s hair, pulling at the strands and desperately pushing his body against that of the taller man, who managed to take him apart within seconds and reduce him to a blabbering and wanton mess.

“N-Nigel,” he whispered, his lips against Nigel’s jaw, again so close to sealing their union with a kiss, but instead his licked and kissed the sharp jawline and hissed his moans into Nigel’s ear. “God, yes. F-fuck me, oh God.”

Nigel grinned into the kiss he pressed against John’s throat, biting into the skin, hard enough to leave the marks of his teeth, gentle enough to not leave permanent damage. John felt how sweat was building on his forehead, running down his face, being licked away by Nigel when it reached his throat. His legs were wrapped around Nigel’s hips, feet crossed behind his ass, relying that Nigel held him up, did not let go of him, pushing again and again deep into his body, again and again making them one again, like in that night that seemed a lifetime ago.

Nigel angled his hips in a different way and the next thrust made John again see stars, pushing right against his prostate as if Nigel had fucked him not only one time before but hundreds of times, knew his body and knew his reactions, knew how to pull moans from him and how to drive him crazy with lust. There was no rational explanation for what Nigel did to him, for what he made him crave and want. He fulfilled something that John had buried deep inside his soul, and he felt how the younger man trembled and shivered, how his movements urged and begged to be satisfied and fucked until he finally came with a sigh, his teeth biting down onto his own lips, almost drawing blood.

Nigel followed seconds later, filling the condom and panted against John’s neck, both unable to move, unable to say or think anything, until long seconds later, Nigel stepped away from John, slipping out of him and letting him sink to his feet in the same movement.

John’s legs were still shaking and his hole was sore and ached, and still his whole body begged to continue, not wanting to accept that it was already over again. He leaned back against the wall and bend down to pull up his pants, tucking himself into it and closing the belt. Nigel wiped the sweat from his face, and then pulled his jeans up as well, having disposed of the condom in the trash bin under the sink, his casual smirk again on his lips.

“Next time it’s a fucking bed,” Nigel grinned.

“There won’t be a next time,” John said, using some toilet paper to wipe off the cum from his belly before he closed his shirt. “There will never be a next time.”

Nigel shrugged.

“I wouldn’t be so fucking sure of that, gorgeous,” he said, leaning into John’s personal space and kissed his bearded cheek. “I wonder what you look like underneath all that hair, maybe I will make you shear it fucking off one day.”

“Not in this lifetime,” John said and went to the door, wanting to escape being so close to Nigel, being in this restricted space with him, smelling him and still feeling him inside him even if he had left his body.

Again, Nigel shrugged and watched John open carefully the door and take a peek outside and when he saw nobody in the hallway, opening the door further and leaving the bathroom, followed by Nigel, who had one hand in a pocket, looking all proud of himself.

Without further words, they went the way they had come and left the house through the large glass door leading to the terrace where the party was still going on.

John turned towards Nigel as soon as they were outside, looking into the whiskey-colored irises, and could not help but smile, he opened his mouth to say something, but…

“Oh, there you are,” Lisa smiled, coming towards them as soon as they had left the house, Nigel, closely behind John.

He threw a short look over his shoulder and saw the again smug grin on Nigel’s face, who was searching for something in his jeans pocket. He frowned when Nigel pulled out a pack of cigarettes and started smoking without even asking if it was okay, and somehow, it did no longer surprise John.

Lisa pressed a kiss to his lips and he smiled, seeing from the corner of his eyes how Nigel’s eyes narrowed when he wrapped an arm around Lisa’s waist and pulled her into her personal space.

“Daddy and I have been looking for you, he’s going to make the announcement now,” she smiled brightly and then noticed Nigel, not losing her smile for a single second.

Instead she offered the stranger a hand which he took.

“Hi,” she said. “I don’t think we met? I’m Lisa, John’s fiancée.”

Nigel smiled, smug and in assessment of the pretty woman.

“Nigel Ibanescu,” he said, letting his accent seem even thicker than it usually was, and for a moment John expected him to introduce himself to her as the man who had just fucked her fiancé and he held his breath. “I’m an…acquaintance of John’s.”

She continued to smile.

“Oh, did you meet through work? I never meet anyone John works with,” she complained playfully.

“Not exactly,” Nigel offered. “I own a club in DC where John brought some of his charges a few weeks ago, we somehow got friendly with each other.”

John blinked at the choice of words, not a lie and also not the whole truth.

“How nice of you to come,” Lisa said and then directed the attention back to John. “Come, pookie.”

Nigel huffed and snorted a short laugh, that he did not hold back even when John now glowered at him while Lisa led him away to the edge of the terrace where her father and mother were already waiting for them, glasses of champagne in their hands, offering one of the glasses to John.

“A word,” the governor said loud enough for everyone to hear. “I am so very glad all of you could come tonight, as we have something important to announce. My beloved daughter Lisa, the apple of my eye and the light of my life, and her fiancé John,” he put a hand on John’s shoulder. “Have finally agreed on a wedding date. I am so happy to tell you all that we are looking forward to a May wedding two months from now. I know it looks rushed, but you know how it goes, young love.”

The governor raised his glass.

“To Lisa and John!”

Cheers and repeats of his toast were heard all over the terrace, but John wore again the smile he was used to wear at all times.

While people hugged him and pressed kisses to his cheeks, congratulating him and making jokes about the wedding that would take place so soon, his eyes found Nigel, who was standing at the other side of the terrace.

A world away from him.

A world away from his life.

Nothing but a stranger.

And he smiled.


	8. Chapter 8

Two weeks later, John was finding himself standing on a stool and having two very obviously gay men tugging and prodding at him and the suit he was being fitted into.

It was not the first tailored suit he was getting, nor that he owned. Nice clothing had been a passion of him that not many of his colleagues at the State Department shared. It was one of the few luxuries he allowed himself, even if he did this very rarely. This was though not his preferred tailor, and he was already very sure that he never again would visit this designer’s store, being already annoyed that he was treated like a piece of meat.

A young man who was the right age to be his son, the short white-blond hair dusted with pink tips, was tugging at the legs of the pants and had by now six times casually touched John’s balls, not that he was counting, and he knew that the snarl and hiss that he had uttered at the unwanted and intimate touch would very soon turn into a push and an insult. Every time the young man, no, the boy, touched some part of him and John let out an annoyed breath, he looked up at him from what he was doing and licked his lips, just like he did right now.

John looked down at the boy, noticing that he wore makeup and eyeliner, and thought a second about how ridiculous it was that he obviously had reached the age of a twink going after him. Had he ever been this desperate? Looking for an older man in a well-fitted suit to fuck him? He shrugged the thought off. No. He never had felt the desire for an older man, not once in his life, until…Nigel has happened. He was not that much older than him he thought, but then he remembered that Ibanescu indeed was fifteen years older than him. Did that make him daddy-material? What was he then? And more importantly, why was he even wasting thoughts on something as ridiculous as this.

The boy batted his eyelashes at him, and winked at him, tilting his head towards one of the dressing rooms, indicating that they would have some privacy in there.

John raised a brow, still staring at the boy. He was not used being flirted at and, God help him, the boy was almost a child, and there was not the smallest part of him finding that attracting, and so he shook his head, the upper lip again pulled in a snarl. The boy though seemed not intimidated and instead only shrugged and continued to put pins into the inner seam of the pant leg.

He raised his head and looked at his reflection in the mirror, like he found himself often doing recently, and once again he hardly recognized the slender man with the short cut hair and the beard, so little resembling who he once had been. The suit was of a dark blue, not his first choice as he preferred black and dark gray garments, but what annoyed him more than the color was the shiny, almost silky material that reflected the light here and there and was cold to the touch. He never had liked silk and did not get why so many people were attracted to a material so cold. He hated the material that Lisa had picked for his wedding suit, and he already knew that the tie she would pick would be matching either her dress of the flower choice which he knew would be some pink atrocity that hurt his eyes. But it was her wedding, her big day, and he would do anything that would make her smile and happy.

When his phone rang from its place in his coat on a chair at the side, he turned to look at it.

“You want me to get it for you?” The boy asked, the voice lower than it naturally was, and John only nodded, watched how the boy got up from his kneeling position and fetched his phone from the coat pocket and brought it over to him.

John sighed at the name in the display but then answered the call.

“Pookie,” Lisa said from the other side. “Why do you let me wait so long?”

John closed his eyes, shutting out the thought of how much he hated that name.

“As you very well know, darling,” he said, making his voice sound soft. “I’m at the tailor for my suit.”

“Oh, I forgot,” she said. “You will look so handsome, Pookie.”

He nodded and rolled his eyes a little, something that made the boy who again was busy at his pants legs giggle.

“I had cocktails today with Marcia and Loraine,” Lisa continued and John winced inwardly at the mention of Lisa’s college friends.

“Cocktails?” He asked. “Lisa, it’s two in the afternoon. Hardly the right time to have cocktails.”

The boy raised his brows and looked up at him.

“Ah, shucks,” Lisa meant. “Every time is the right time for cocktails. Anyways, what I wanted to tell you, I showed Loraine a picture of you as she has still not met you, and, oh my God, she said you were total hot stuff. Can you believe that?”

John wanted to scream. Loud. And long.

“You are going to marry me in seven weeks, Lisa,” he said. “Shouldn’t you be a little less surprised that anyone finds me to be attractive?”

“Yes, but I’m biased,” she continued. “I see you every day. And yes, you ar01e the handsomest man I have ever met. I’m so lucky to have so a pretty husband at my side. So, Loraine and Marcia absolutely love the bridesmaid dresses I picked for them, and my cousins will make such absolutely gorgeous groomsmen. Now you only need to get your best man, have you decided in the meantime? Time is running out, Pookie.”

John sighed.

“I have,” he lied. “I will tell you tonight at dinner.”

She cheered and laughed.

“Oh, wonderful,” Lisa laughed. “I’m so excited. I love you. Gotta run. Bye.”

She hung up before he could give his goodbyes himself, and he stared for a moment at his phone. His lie had gotten him into a serious problem. He had no best man. He had no friend close enough to be considered best man material.

He frowned at himself, brows knit together in thought.

There was Wellington, who he trusted, but they had never been friends. Most of the time they were not even friendly. No, Wellington would not do, no matter how much John had looked up to the Chief of Staff in his past.

There was President Hayes. Lisa and her family would be over the moon if he announced the president would be his best man. But he did not accept private invitations or responsibilities, and to be honest, he was not all too fond of the president. It would look good for his political career though, so Hayes was someone he could at least consider, if there was not the fact that the man was a complete tool and he would have to deal with him during his own wedding. No. Not an option then.

That left…Nigel.

No.

Just no.

Alone the thought of Nigel’s smug expression and smirk next to him, while he was giving his vows about love and fidelity to Lisa, was not just ridiculous. John had immediately a picture in his head that when the priest asked if someone had objections about the marriage, Nigel would step forward and do something disastrous. That was nothing John would risk, not even at the glimpse of a thought that Nigel would look hot in a fitted suit, but not in the blue. Something darker, something more going with his complexion, something…

John shuddered. What was he even thinking and why was he even thinking about the other man?

He raised his phone and dialed a saved number and waited only three rings until the call was picked up.

“John?” Brian asked. “I thought this was your day off?”

“It is. Hey, Brian,” John said, smiling at the voice of his always kind and gentle co-worker. “Brian, are you free this afternoon? I would like to talk to you about something private, how about happy hour at Brink’s?”

Brian seemed to check something in his calendar, and then replied: “About 5 would work for me. Did something happen?”

“No, everything is fine,” John smiled. “At 5 then. See you tonight.”

He ended the call after Brian had said the same and chewed his lip for a moment. Brian was sweet and nice, but he was not sure he could call him a friend, though the idea of being friends with the younger advisor was a nice thought. He smiled and put his phone away, straightening his back and looked out of the shop window, watching the passing people on the boardwalk while the tailor and his assistant finished fitting the suit.

Suddenly, his eyes went wide.

There was a man at the shop window, looking inside. A head of wavy black hair, too long to be fashionable, a full beard, a black leather jacket. He seemed to be around John’s age.

That face.

That face.

It was impossible.

He went off the stool he had been standing on and raised a hand when the tailor tried to stop him and left the shop.

The man was gone.

It had only been his imagination. A cruel trick his mind had played on him.

He looked to the left and then he saw him again. Walking away. Away from him.

John started to walk.

Then he ran.

And finally he grabbed the man’s arm and pulled him around to face him.

“Am…,” he started but before he could finish what he was saying he realized that it indeed had been a trick of his mind.

He had never seen this man before. His eyes were not black, they were gray. He was not as handsome, his nose too long, his lips not full enough.

The stranger smiled at him.

“Yes?” He asked.

“I…,” John began. “I’m sorry, I must have mistaken you for someone else.” He noticed his own voice being thin and shaking. “I’m…sorry.”

The stranger still smiled and clapped a hand onto his arm.

“No harm done, mate,” he said and then turned and walked away, leaving behind a John Zabel who was feeling a terrible pain in his chest, an emptiness he had not felt in fifteen years. Something that he had thought was long gone and behind him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He found Brian already sitting at a table in the bar they had agreed to meet in.

Brink’s was a cozy little pub not far from their offices and several co-workers met there regularly for drinks. John though had never been invited and had only been once there when Brian had celebrated his birthday a few months back.

He smiled when he saw the taller man, again noticing how much Brian looked like a bodybuilder with his impressive physique, maybe a bouncer, but never an aspiring and definitely talented politician. Brian returned the smile when John sat down, holding a glass that looked like it held coke with something else in it.

“Hey,” he said. “I’m sorry I’m a little late. Traffic.”

Brian grinned.

“Yeah, it’s a mess today. That’s the moment I’m glad I’m not driving myself.”

“You’re being picked up usually, aren’t you?” John asked.

“Yeah, most of the time I am,” Brian said, turning the glass in his large hand. “I’m sorry, I have not really a lot of time, but you sounded like it’s something important?”

John looked at him, feeling a little guilty from having stopped Brian from attending his private life and instead of having to spend a moment of time with him.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to bother you,” he quickly said with an honest smile. “Now I feel guilty.”

John ordered a beer from the waitress who looked casual and pretty in a white shirt and a black pencil skirt, and looked back at Brian who again grinned.

“Nah, it’s okay,” he said. “As long as I make it home in time for dinner. My parents are visiting today, we don’t see them often.”

John nodded.

“That must be nice,” he said. “Listen, the reason why I wanted to talk to you. It may seem a little weird, but I wanted to ask you something.”

Brian leaned a little forward, sensing that John was a little upset and nervous.

“What is wrong, John?” He asked. “You know you can talk to me?”

“Oh, it’s nothing bad, I just don’t know how to start.”

Brian smiled.

“Just shoot.”

John sighed.

“Okay, you know I’m not the most sociable person around,” he said, and Brian nodded. “You probably heard that I’m getting married in seven weeks. And, well, I’m kind of lacking a best man.”

Brian’s brows shot up.

“You…,” he said, a little stunned. “You’re asking me to be your best man?”

John’s smile was helpless, but he nodded.

“I know we’re not really friends, but…”

Brian raised a hand.

“First of all, we are friends, John. We might not go for drinks all the time, and we don’t agree on a lot of things, but of all the people I work with, you’re the one I would at least call a close acquaintance,” he explained. “And second, oh my God, yes! Of course I would like to be your best man, John. I’d be honored. There is only one thing.”

John raised his brows and took some of the drink he had ordered, surprised how great the simple drink tasted.

“What is it?”

Now it was Brian’s turn to look a little helpless.

“I would like to bring a plus one?” He asked.

John beamed.

“Of course, bring your wife, I’d be very happy to meet the missus,” he said. “That’s without question, Brian.”

Brian held a breath and then, while letting the breath go, he added: “That is the point, John. There is no missus. There is a mister.”

John blinked at him.

“And, why do you think that would be a problem?” He said, while being a little surprised that Brian was married to another man and not to a woman. How had he never known about that?

“Because,” Brian replied. “You are a little radical with a lot of things you give your opinion on. Quite conservative, and I know the governor was against the legalization of same-sex marriage. I thought you maybe are…”

“A homophobe?” John asked surprised.

He wanted to tell Brian that he had an affair with another man. That he…

But then he frowned.

How was it possible that the man who worked with him every day thought he was homophobic?

Was Wellington right?

When did it happen that he forgot who he really was?

Sadly, he knew the answer to that only too well.


	9. Chapter 9

John ignored the chatter of his co-workers that were leaving the air force base behind him, passing through security and the mandatory check by secret service agents. Other than the men that were leaving the plane behind him, John was still wearing his three-part suit, even the tie in the right place, the hair neatly combed and not a single hair out of place. Nobody who saw him for a moment would think that a several hours long flight was behind him and that he had not slept a single minute during that flight and instead had read up on files and emails, had written some reports and recommendations on how to proceed.

But those who would pay closer attention would see the emptiness in his eyes, the lines on his face and the paler than usual skin. He was dead tired and he felt every muscle in his body being tense.

It was not so much the long flight, or the annoying other analysts and advisors who were clapping each other’s shoulders even though their trip had not reached any result worth mentioning. It was not so much that the mood during the negotiations was tense and strained. It was not being watched by a selection of heavily armed men who would snap at the wrong word. It had not been the sudden change in plans when the trip to Iran had been forced to a short journey to Afghanistan, where G’uram had invited the president to and Hayes had not listened to his recommendations to not follow the invitation of the man he considered a terrorist.

It had been the trip to Iran itself.

It had been the trip to Tehran and to streets that he did not want to remember and had not thought of for a long time. Still, the climate, the smell, the people, buildings and language, made him travel back to a different world in his head. Nightmares had started the first night he had spent in the Tehrani hotel room, and he had not been able to sleep a single moment for the following nights. He was exhausted now, and still, he was not able to sleep on the plane.

He ignored the people behind him, the men and women of the staff, the secret service agents, and everyone else, and only wanted to get to his car and back home, into his bed and sleep for the next weeks.

John smiled shortly at the agent who had checked his suitcase and then went onto the parking lot, where he found his car and stored his luggage into the trunk and finally took his seat behind the steering wheel, where he closed his eyes and leaned back, letting out several deep breaths. When he opened his eyes, he rubbed his face and then started the car, pulling it onto the street as soon as he had left the parking lot, driving for a few minutes without thinking. The evening traffic was busy and he was only going slow, much slower than he would have preferred.

Suddenly he looked up at the street signs.

What the fuck had happened?

He had gone in the wrong direction.

He was not driving home, where he wanted to sleep and relax.

He was driving in the direction of the industrial area, where…

John sighed and frowned, and then found himself continuing his way instead of turning around. Whatever his instincts demanded of him, he was too tired to fight them.

Almost half an hour in his car and he had finally reached the destination where his foggy mind had forced him to and he parked his car in one of the few empty spaces. It looked like the Splendid was well frequented today and for another moment, he was uncertain if he really should go in, what if someone was in there that knew him, but then…what was he worried about? It would be just as awkward for the other person as it would be for him, so there was no need to be concerned.

With another sigh, John left his car and went with determined steps, not wanting to let anyone see how insecure he was, towards the door, where the same bouncer was standing, casually chatting with the small and young-looking girl that had left Nigel’s office the second time he had come here. John frowned at her, still thinking that she could by no means be legal, but that was something that he had no right to interfere with. While she looked fragile, she looked not scared and seemed to be comfortable with the company of the huge man.

“John,” the bouncer said with a wink, and John was for a second confused that he knew his name, but only nodded. “Go right in.”

Frowning John went into the club and was, like he expected, met with a large crowd of people, the smell of smoke and liquor, the heat of many bodies being in the same space. He looked around but did not see Nigel anywhere as he had somehow hoped, not even sure what he was hoping for, and therefore went to the bar.

There was a different bartender this evening, a young blond man he had never seen before, and he smiled brightly at the new customer who was standing there a little lost, in his well-tailored suit and dark overcoat.

“Hey,” he said. “What can I get you?”

John looked at him for a moment.

“Is Nigel in his office?” He asked only.

The bartender raised a brow.

“Nigel? Do you have an appointment? I don’t think he would see…”

“It’s okay, Bobby,” Darko said, approaching him from the left, giving John a short smile. “I didn’t think we’d see you here again, Nigel said…doesn’t matter. Yeah, he’s upstairs, but he’s not in a good mood, paperwork, you know?”

John nodded.

“I’ll risk it,” he said. “Thanks.”

And with that he turned and went to the stairs, going to the first floor. A whore and a sweaty customer met him on the stairs and he stared a hole into the woman. Elena. He was ready to snap at her that all of this was her fault, but then he did not. She looked at him, clearly recognizing him and looking somewhat guilty, but John gave her not the time to talk to him and instead went past her, murmuring an apology and went right towards the shut door to Nigel’s office.

He hesitated, but then knocked four times, waited a second and entered without having heard a reply, a little wary of what he would run into. It was possible that Nigel was not alone, engaged in some sort of business or sexual encounter. But then, when he had been with him weeks ago for the first time, he had locked the door.

Nigel looked up from what he was doing when John came in, stared at the younger man for a moment in surprise and put down his pen with which he had been making notes on some papers.

“What the fuck do you want?” He said, sounding annoyed.

“Well, hello to you too, Nigel,” John replied and closed the door behind him not waiting for an invitation to enter further.

He made a few steps toward the leather couch, very well remembering what had happened there, and looked for a moment outside the window overlooking the club.

“It’s busy tonight,” he said, turned around and sat down, crossing his legs and leaning back, looking like he had sat there thousands of times, thousands of nights.

Nigel still stared at him and then huffed.

“A bachelor party,” he said. “What the fuck do you want?”

John rubbed his eyes.

“You repeat yourself.”

“I fucking wouldn’t have to if you would fucking answer me.”

John rolled his shoulders, still feeling tense, but did not reply.

“So, how are your fucking wedding preps go, Johnny?” Nigel went on. He stood up and went around his desk, leaning against it from the other side, facing John.

John looked at him.

“I told you to not call me that,” he said.

“And I fucking do what I want…Johnny.”

John stared at him for a moment and then got up and started to leave.

“I don’t even know why I came here,” he muttered to himself, but was stopped by Nigel’s reached out hand on his arm.

“You know very well why you came here,” he said. “You need something your precious Lisa is not able to give you, and I’m not talking about a fucking cock up your ass.”

John looked at him.

“And what is it you think you are able to give me?” He asked. “Because, fuck you, Nigel, I don’t know anymore what is wrong with me.”

Nigel stepped into his personal space, almost leaning his cheek against his and immediately, John felt his warmth and smelled the unique scent of musk and cigarettes, so Nigel and nobody else, and he closed his eyes.

“Johnny,” Nigel whispered.

John shuddered, partly at the warm hint of breath that hit his skin, partly of the dreaded name that Nigel did not stop using.

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that?” He asked and stepped away, but found Nigel holding his wrist in his hand, holding him close without pulling him into an embrace, their shoulders touching.

“Who called you that? Who broke your heart?”

John shook his head.

“It’s not important. It was…a long time ago and I don’t like to be reminded,” he said and now looked up into Nigel’s eyes. “I…”

Nigel leaned closer, again letting his lips hover over John’s without closing the remaining distance between them.

“Still no kissing?”

“Still no kissing.”

Nigel chuckled and kissed instead of John’s lips his cheek.

“Too fucking bad. I’m a damn good kisser…John.”

A hint of a smile went over John’s lips, accepting that Nigel finally respected his wish to be not called by the nickname he hated so much, and leaned his shoulder against the other’s.

“Why did you come here tonight?” Nigel asked.

Again, John shook his head.

“I don’t know. Maybe…maybe you’re right. Maybe I am just a fucking masochist who wants to be forced into having sex with…”

Nigel snarled.

“I don’t fucking force you.”

“You fucking blackmailed me with the videotape, Nigel,” John said, taking a step away from him.

“I did not fucking force you on the party,” Nigel snapped back. “I…I don’t even know why I went there, why I thought it was a good idea to go there to see you. Yeah, don’t fucking look at me like that. I went there because of you, and then you are fucking getting married in a few weeks. I’m a lot of fucking things. I’m not a fucking homewrecker.”

John frowned.

“You run a criminal organization. You run a brothel. You run drug and weapon deals, yes, Nigel I know about that. But…”

“I was married,” Nigel said.

John looked again at him.

“I was fucking married to the woman of my dreams but she…well…she fucking left me and almost got me killed,” he said, tapping a spot between his brows where a small scar was visible in the right light. “Got a fucking metal plate in my head because of her. Not gonna ruin a fucking marriage like her fuck boy ruined mine.”

John blinked at him, feeling still Nigel’s hand grab his wrist, not letting go of him.

“This is the last night we will have together, John,” Nigel said. “After tonight, I don’t want to fucking ever see you again.”

John moved an inch closer.

“Nigel…,” he said, voice a whisper.

“I’m going to wreck you,” Nigel whispered back, again leaning into his space and almost kissing him, breathing onto his lips, and then leaning his forehead against John’s. “I’m going to fucking wreck you.”

John nodded and turned a little so he faced Nigel’s body, and was immediately pulled against his body, feeling hard muscle and strong hands. He did not dare to look up at Nigel anymore, embarrassed of the desire he felt, of the confusing feelings that welled up in him and that he had not been able to fight.

One last night.

“Come,” Nigel then said and pulled him after him out of the office.

In the hallway, they met the young girl again who looked surprised at the club’s owner and his company.

“Tess, love. Is 9 free?” He asked her.

She nodded.

“I just cleaned it, Mister Nigel,” she replied, her voice a think and shy whisper.

John was surprised to find the usually so gruff man smile at her.

“Thank you, love,” he said and continued his way, pulling John after him, who looked over his shoulder and saw the girl move away, dragging a plastic trolley behind her.

“Is she?” He asked.

“She’s working for me,” Nigel only said and finally pushed a door open and shoved John inside, where he looked around.

“Who’s your interior designer?” He asked. “Madame Pompadour?”

“Never heard of the bitch,” Nigel said and started to pull John’s coat over his shoulders. “Are you here to talk fucking interior design or getting laid?”

John signed and shrugged out of his jacket and looked down where Nigel was opening the buttons of his waistcoat.

“Fucking gorgeous suit,” he said. “But too many fucking layers.”

The advisor was pulling his tie open and let go of the cloth when Nigel impatiently ripped open his shirt and buttons went flying. He was too busy himself with getting his hands on Nigel that he could not care about the destruction of the expensive shirt, and instead fingered skillfully the buttons of Nigel’s dark blue shirt open, finding the desired chest hair and soft skin underneath. Nigel moaned when John’s fingers pushed underneath the opened shirt and grazed his skin, shivering at the touch. The palms of John’s hand went over Nigel’s stiff nipples, pulling another moan from the older man, before he leaned closer and kissed his sternum, his tongue flicking over salty and clean skin.

Nigel’s right hand pushed into John’s always so neat hair, pulling and tugging at the shirt strands and pulling the surprised man, whose lips were moving slowly towards Nigel’s right nipple, off him.

“Bed,” Nigel said.

John panted slightly and nodded, and then slipped out of his shoes and went to sit on the bed, pulling his shirt out of his pants and opening it completely.

Moving backward further onto the bed, watching how Nigel got out of his shirt as well and unable to stop himself from licking his lips at the mouthwatering sight of the other man, who started to rummage through a drawer in the sideboard. He frowned shortly, remembering what Elena had pulled out of a drawer some weeks back, but instead of an unneeded strap-on, Nigel threw a bottle of lube and a strip of foiled condoms next to him onto the bed.

“Want toys?” He asked, holding up a bright pink dildo, and John could not help but grin.

“To be honest, I’d prefer the real thing.”

Nigel chuckled and turned, making a few steps. At the edge of the bed he a well got out of his shoes and opened his belt and pushed the pants down his long and slender legs. He was already half-hard without and John found himself getting increasingly aroused at the mere sight and licked again his lips.

Nigel’s eyes went down to John’s crotch that showed clearly the level of arousal the younger man found himself to be in, his cock straining against the fabric of his pants.

“Fucking overdressed,” Nigel meant with a smirk and John rolled his eyes a little, pulling open his belt and moving his hips so he could push his remaining clothing off his body, continuing to only wear his shirt that had slipped from one shoulder. Somehow, he felt incredibly sexy like this, and the thought that Nigel looked at him, his clothing indicating that he was so, so ready for him, his skin flushed and his own cock erect against his belly and already dripping with pre-cum, it was almost too much for him.

Nigel crawled over him and remained on knees and arms, not lowered onto his body but keeping a few inches between them when he looked down at John’s face, at his lips, and John knew that he wanted to kiss him, and John knew a part of him wanted that too but the other part was stronger and so he angled his head a little and kissed Nigel’s jawline and throat, feeling Nigel’s breathing hitch and when Nigel lowered himself now onto him, slowly, oh so slowly, he spread automatically his legs and felt their hard cocks pressing against each other. Nigel kissed and licked John’s neck and moved downwards, lips and tongue exploring his skin and finally closing around one of his nipples, not wasting time and starting to suck his hardened bud deep into his mouth, nibbling and biting. John writhed underneath him and his hands found Nigel’s hair to hold onto, hissing when the slight pain from Nigel’s bites and the pleasure from his roaming hands were mixing into a long-forgotten passion that clouded his senses and made him forget who he was trying so hard to be.

One of Nigel’s hands was reaching up and holding his throat without using force, the other was playing with the nipple that was not getting the attention of his lips, letting John more and more turn into a whimpering mess, having long found out how sensitive he was at those points of his body. John spread his legs further, his toes curling and digging into the soft sheets of the bed underneath him, a hand moving down to Nigel’s tones shoulders, and he knew he wanted, he needed more.

“Nigel,” he whispered, voice already rough. “I need…”

Nigel looked up, licking a last time over the red and pulsing nipple, eyes dark and feral.

“What do you need, gorgeous,” he asked.

John looked into his eyes, mouth open, words stuck in his throat.

“Talk to me. What do you need, gorgeous?”

“You,” John said finally. “I need you.”

Nigel nodded and sat up between his legs, kneeling with spread legs and almost casually stroking his cock, spreading his own fluid over his shaft, watching John’s reaction, his eyes looking at every inch of his body. One of his hands reached out, and John took it as if it had been offered to him. Their fingers laced together, eyes locked, knowing that they had no chance to escape what was happening between them, that this last night was all they would have and that they would return to their lives after this. John tried to not think of the woman he was going to marry in a few weeks, a happy, beautiful bride, the woman he had decided he would spend the rest of his life with, the woman he was cheating on with this gorgeous man.

Nigel reached for something next to the bed and when John’s eyes followed him, he saw a champagne bucket, an open bottle inside from what he was able to see. Nigel shook the bucket and grinned, pulling it closer and taking the bottle out of it and taking a gulp from it.

Before John understood what was going on, Nigel had lowered his head between his legs and had taken his flushed cock into his mouth letting ice-cold, bubbling champagne run over his hot skin. He felt his legs tremble and a load moan fall from his lips, the stimulation almost too much to bear. Again, he whispered the other man’s name, and Nigel answered with a hum, letting a hand, cold from the contact with the iced bottle, run up his body and again find the nipple that was so oversensitive that it bordered on pain, but still not in a way that made him uncomfortable. Instead, the touch of Nigel’s cold fingers made him hiss and close his eyes. Nigel’s lips and tongue worked on his shaft, and he was sure that it would take only seconds until he would come down the man’s throat and even though he did not want Nigel to stop, he was glad when he did and let the hard cock slip from his lips and slap against his belly, getting some firm strokes from Nigel’s free hand.

Both of Nigel’s hands went along John’s hipbones, caressing his pubic hair and massage his thighs, avoiding to touch his cock or balls again, obviously aware that John was not able to hold back much longer, hungry for him like a starving man, and closed his eyes again. All of his body was on fire, every inch craving and desiring to be touched, as if a part of him was coming back to life.

He opened his eyes and looked at Nigel, noticing that he was looking at his face, an expression of something on his face that he could not explain, something gentle, something…caring.

“Gorgeous,” he whispered and John did not know if he meant it as a pet name or to describe what he was seeing, and either option made him blush and bite his lips.

Unsure what to do, John sat up, looking up at Nigel and touching his hairy chest with both hands, moving over his pectorals and his sternum, licking over his already sweaty skin and finally giving his nipples a similar treatment like his had received. Nigel sat back on his haunches and arched his back into the touch.

It was John’s hand against his stomach that made him lean further back and he still frowned at what John intended to do, when John leaned down and gave his cock an assertive lick up his whole length.

Nigel hissed, eyes closed, until they flew up and he looked down his body, watching how John was just licking him again, one hand holding his balls and, large blue eyes wide open and looking up at him, swallowed him deep.

“Fuck…,” Nigel whispered, a hand in John’s hair, shivering at the intimacy that John was suddenly allowing, breaking his own demands. He could not help moving his hips to meet Johns sucking motion and found himself taking him even further until his balls hit John’s chin and the tip of his cock was buried in John’s throat.

The younger man stopped breathing for a moment and then he swallowed around Nigel, the movement of his throat muscles so erotic and arousing that he felt the need to either grab John’s head and force him off him to stop him from making him come, or start to fuck his face hard and fast, making him gag on his cock and drool spit and cum. The decision was taken from him when John started to move his head on his own, urging Nigel to move and start fucking his mouth and throat.

“Fuck, John,” Nigel hissed. “So fucking good.”

John hummed and held onto Nigel’s thighs, enjoying and losing himself in Nigel’s taste, of the perfection of how he felt while he was working on him, but let go after a while, feeling how Nigel was holding back just as he had tried to a few minutes ago, and they both knew what they wanted.

Nigel pulled him up and again their lips were so close to each other, slightly open, wet from each other’s fluids.

“Still no kiss,” Nigel whispered against his lips, millimeters separating them.

“Still no kiss,” John whispered back, and then arched his head back when Nigel bent down to kiss instead of his lips his neck, sucking a bruise into his skin, and he could not bring himself to care.

“On your back,” came the order from Nigel, but John found a hint of anxiety in his voice, as if he was uncertain of how John would react, if he would maybe end this here and now, but John followed his words and fell back into the soft pillows and chewed his bottom lip when Nigel threw the bottle of lube onto his chest. “Open yourself up for me, gorgeous.”

John wanted to disagree, but then he opened the bottle and put a few drops of the cold liquid onto his fingertips and spread his legs furthers, smearing the lube into his crack and against his willing hole. The tip of his tongue was pressed against his teeth when he pressed his index inside himself, followed shortly by his middle finger and slowly fucked himself with both fingers, the stretch too much too fast, but still exactly what he always had liked. Nigel’s eyes were dark with desire, looking at John fucking himself open, listening to his panting moans and without moving his eyes away from that scenery, he grabbed the strip of condoms and ripped one off, and finally wrapped himself into the latex sheath, taking the bottle that had fallen onto the bed next to John’s leg and used some of the clear lube himself and spread a generous amount over himself. John wanted to object that it was too much, that he liked that hint of pain, but he realized that Nigel would not be gentle tonight. He would take him without hesitation.

It was Nigel, who grabbed John’s hand and pulled his fingers from his ass, and lined himself up, scooting closer with a single movement, and pushed into John’s quivering hole, all the way until he was buried completely inside him.

Both men moaned load, bodies pressed against each other, one with the man underneath, the man on top. John pulled his legs up and gave Nigel better access to his body, who only waited a few seconds and then pulled out only to push back, repeating the movement over and over, until he was able to take onto a hard pace, smashing his body into John’s, taking his breath away with every thrust that was uniting them.

John moved his hips to meet him, giving him full access, searching for the deepest possible contact, hoping for Nigel to find that spot inside him that would make him lose all well-established control, and when Nigel’s cock finally pushed hard against his prostate, John screamed and thought he would blackout. His fingernails scratched over Nigel’s back, his whole body trembling already.

His feet crossed over Nigel’s moving ass, he kissed the older man’s neck and shoulder, bit into the skin when the sensation became too much, leaving bite marks and bruises himself, just like Nigel was leaving traces of them being together as well.

They moved together like they had done this a thousand times, like they knew each other well and had not only had had sex twice before, had only fucked twice before, and still John felt like Nigel knew everything about him without him having given him access to his secrets and desires. It was like he could read him, and John was not sure he liked that thought.

Right now though, nothing of that mattered. There was no time wasting thought on Nigel breaking open his walls when this was the last night they would spend together, would probably never see each other again and this was the last chance to feel Nigel like this, intimate, deep inside his body, thrusting into him at a ferocious pace, using him like he was used, and it took not long until John felt his climax building up inside him, felt how his insides felt like they were drawn together, and then he gasped when Nigel again pushed against that bundle of nerves inside him and he again came untouched, bursts of his come covering himself and Nigel, gluing them together while Nigel did not miss a beat and fucked into him, fucked into him again until he too came and filled the condom, John’s scorching insides spasming uncontrollably around him, milking him and wringing him dry.

Both of them stopped moving, and it felt like they stopped breathing or a moment too, overwhelmed in the moment, until Nigel rolled off him and pulled the condom off in the same movement, throwing it somewhere into the room and gave his softening cock a few more pulls, easing the remaining itch, while John remained unmoving on his back, not certain that he would ever move again. His whole body was glowing, every cell of his being was tingling and his mind was not able to form a simple thought.

“God, my ass is on fire,” John moaned finally, head buried in his angled arm, panting and trying to catch his breath.

“Is it?” Nigel asked, his own voice hoarse and out of breath.

“Hmm,” John made and felt how Nigel was moving next to him on the bed, and then a hand appeared between his legs, He frowned a little, still not having come completely down from the height of his orgasm and then said: “I don’t think that’s a good i….NIGEL!”

John shrieked up, turned and pushed Nigel away, a hand moving between his own legs, were something cold, something ice-cold, was moving inside him.

“What the f… Did you just put a fucking ice cube inside of me?” He asked, eyes wide in surprise.

Nigel shrugged next to him, a catlike grin on his face, clearly amused.

“You said your ass was on fire,” he said casually. “Better fucking put the fire out then, huh?”

“You…fucking…asshole!” John said, laughter pearling from his lips, eyes crinkling and tears forming in his eyes.

He giggled at the feeling, giggled at the man who made him laugh like this.

And he suddenly realized that he had not laughed like this in years.

In many years.


	10. Chapter 10

When John woke up, Nigel was gone. A second round of intense fucking, this time John riding Nigel until exhaustion, had put him just seconds after finishing into a deep sleep.

He was for a moment confused where he was, and only when he saw the lush furniture and decoration in bronze and brown-tones, elegant and somewhat sophisticated, he remembered that he was in a room o Nigel’s brothel. He groaned and rolled from his side onto his back, again every muscles in his body filled with the soft ache he only ever felt after sex, and somehow had not felt it in years.

John rubbed his eyes and sighed. He had no idea how late it was, or how long he slept, he only knew that he had not felt this relaxed, well-rested and content in a long time. Slowly, he made a tentative move and found his ass to be sore, which was no surprise, probably some skin was torn a little, which he did not mind. He did not mind it at all, which surprised him, and he smiled a little to himself.

But then he remembered who he was, that he was not Nigel Ibanescu’s lover and that he and the Romanian had made a deal and would not see each other again after this last night they had spent together. John took a breath and held it, trying to force the thought away that asked him if he was certain about what he was doing, and told himself, in the voice he usually used on political advisories who he left thinking that he was on their side only to lure them into his mindscape, that he was John Zabel, predential advisor in foreign affairs, member of the State Department, engaged to be married to Lisa-Marie Hamilton in just two weeks. Two weeks. Just a few days and he would give the woman he loved promises and vows that he had already broken.

He sat up and felt his legs being sore as well, and when he looked down his naked body, he found several small bruises all over his skin. He would have to make a up an excuse in case Lisa noticed those, also for him having stayed away, already expecting that she would be upset.

Nothing of that was important to him though. He only was able to remember what happened in the past hours and that he could add this night to the sum of all the failures he had managed to achieve in his life.

Scooting to the edge of the bed, he put his feet on the floor and found the wooden surface to be heated. Nice.

His clothes were still scattered on the floor, only his shirt having made it to the chair where he had thrown it, and it was the first item of clothing that he grabbed and put on.

Somehow he wanted to talk to Nigel, wanted to at least say goodbye, but he also knew it was better this way, that there should not be anything more than it already was.

When the door pushed open, he looked up, expecting that Nigel came back, but it was the young girl who came in, eyes suddenly wide in surprise on finding him there.

“Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry. I will do the room later.”

Her accent was thicker than Nigel’s and something Slavic, maybe Romanian as well. John smiled at her, a little ashamed that he was naked except for the shirt he was wearing.

“No, it’s okay,” he found himself saying. “I’m the one disturbing your work?”

The girl nodded and stood there looking helpless, while John picked his pants up, foregoing his boxers, and stepped into it, pulling them up.

“Tess? Is that right?” John asked.

The girl nodded.

“Yes,” she said. “That is my name.”

Her smile was hesitant and she still looked at the stranger with suspicion.

John was buttoning up his shirt, while slipping his unsocked feet into the shoes, picking then socks and boxers up and put them into the pocket of his pants, looking in the room for his waistcoat.

“You look for something?” Tess asked.

“My waistcoat,” he said and saw Tess frown, not recognizing the word. “Like a jacket without sleeves?”

“Oh,” she said, smiling. “A vest.”

John chuckled.

“Yes, like a vest.”

Tess went to the other side of the bed, letting her plastic trolley stand by the door, and picked up a black piece of clothing up from the floor.

“I think I have it,” she smiled and handed the waistcoat over to him, which he slipped into. “I see not many men with that.”

“A waistcoat?”

“Yes, a waistcoat.”

“Hm,” John made while putting his jacket now on too. “It’s conservative I think. I like the look of it.”

“Very handsome,” Tess said, her smile honest and her eyes bright blue.

John tilted his head to the side.

“You work here?” He asked.

She nodded and pressed her lips together.

“Tess? Is everything ok? Don’t you like working here? Does Mister Ibanescu make you do things you don’t like?”

Her eyes went wide.

“Oh no!” She said quickly. “Mister Nigel is always nice, he helped me when I was in trouble. I like working here. I really like it. Please do not call cops.”

John frowned.

“Why would I do that?” He asked, seeing fear in her eyes. “If Mister Nigel treats you good, I see no reason to interfere. What does he make you do?”

John had not noticed that he made a step towards her, and only noticed from her reaction that she was scared of him getting closer. He raised a hand and made a step back again.

“I clean. I only clean,” she said. “I do not do…things.”

John nodded and smiled.

“That is good,” he said. “I’m John.”

“You friend of Mister Nigel?” She asked.

“Something like that, yes,” he replied, unsure how to answer that honestly.

“His lover?”

John chuckled.

“Now you’re getting curious, Tess,” he meant with a wink. “We were together, yes.”

“You are nice. He is nice too,” she said smiling. “Do you visit again?”

John’s smile turned sad, unable to stop the feeling of loss.

“No,” he said. “I will not come back.”

Tess returned his nod.

“Oh,” she said. “It was nice meet you, John.”

“Very nice, Tess. Take care of yourself, will you?”

She nodded and watched him while he left the room, his coat over an arm.

He did not see a face he knew when he went outside through the club that was already closed, only two more cleaning ladies were busy and some guy he had not seen before was rummaging through the bar. Outside, he went to his car and sat down, checking his phone now.

No missed messages. No missed calls.

And it was already 8 am the next morning.

John hissed a curse at himself. He should have never allowed himself to fall asleep, having stayed the whole night at Nigel’s place, God knows how long without his last night’s lover at his side, but he had to admit that he had not slept this deep and relaxing in a long time.

Nevertheless, he had to face the consequences and he hoped that he could explain him staying away the whole night to Lisa somehow, preparing a story already in his head while he was driving home to the apartment they shared.

Pulling his suitcase from the trunk, he went to the elevator and then to the apartment door, hesitating there for a moment before he unlocked the door and went into the place he was living in.

He put his suitcase down next to the wardrobe and put his coat onto a hanger, listening into the apartment and hearing Lisa’s chatting voice from the living room. With a sigh and straightening his back, he went to open the door and remained standing there, watching Lisa, who was on her phone.

As always, she looked beautiful with her long blond hair neatly straightened, wearing a soft looking white blouse and tan pants, her heels insanely high and making her tower over him by a few inches. Once again, John thought that he couldn’t have done better, and still, the image of someone else flickered in front of his inner eye, a thought that he tried to shrug off immediately.

“Oh, yes, daddy,” she said smiling, blowing a kiss into John’s direction. “I know. But really, what are 3000 Dollars more when it makes your daughter happy?” She giggled. “It’s a designer dress, daddy, and my wedding is in only two weeks. I know it’s really late to make such changes, but daddy, the dress is gorgeous. And you want me to look my best…”

John frowned and stepped into the living room, now noticed by his fiancée, who was rolling her eyes and smiled at him.

“John just got home, daddy,” she said. “I have to run. Love you. Bye.”

She ended the call and went to kiss John’s cheek.

“There you are,” she said and John was getting ready to make excuses and explain to her why he had stayed away for the night, some lie about late negotiations and discussions that she would not be able to put into question, but before he could say a single word, she went on. “Daddy is making such a fuss about the changes I had made for my dress. But, John, it’s so beautiful, and the crystals catch the light in such a wonderful way, I will look like a princess in it.” She pouted at him. “Can’t you put in a good word for me?”

John nodded with a smile that again did not reach his eyes, and for a moment he wished himself back to Nigel’s place, where everything had been carefree and he had not felt the pressure that had started to suffocate him the moment he had stepped through the door into his own life.

But who was he kidding?

He had not worked this hard for some childish idea about a Romanian criminal who had only fucked him four times, who he did not know, who he did not want to know. He had worked this hard to have influence. To make changes. And there was nothing that was going to stop his way, not Nigel Ibanescu, not a great fuck, not the weight on his shoulders, not the memories, not the nightmares.

“I think you know that you have your father wrapped around your little finger without effort, darling,” he said with a smile. “And if he says really no, we can afford to have the changes made you want.”

Lisa beamed at him, pulling a strand of her hair behind an ear.

“You’re the best,” she cooed. “I’m going to look fabulous.” Lisa sighed. “You’re right, I’m just going to talk to daddy again, he’ll agree when I show him pictures of the dress. I’m really so excited, Pookie, it’s going to be the most important society event of the year. All my college friends are coming, and oh my God, have I told you how also accepted our invitation? Wait, I have it somewhere here.” She started to search for something in her handbag. “Oh, I have to run, Pookie,” she said, looking at her golden watch. “I have an appointment with Sergio about my hair and makeup for the wedding in half an hour. Love you, see you tonight.”

“Who’s Sergio?” John asked, taking his jacket off and putting it on the backrest of an armchair.

Lisa rolled her eyes.

“My hairstylist, stupid,” she said, pinching his cheek which made him wince.

She left the room, taking her handbag and blew a kiss at John form the door.

“Yes, love you too,” he said and watched her leave. “See you tonight.”

Lisa winked at him and left.

John stood there in the middle of his stylish living room for a minute or two without moving, and then he turned and got undressed on his way to the bathroom.

Undressed, he looked into the mirror, massaging his stiff neck with one hand, and then down his body, finding bruises on his hips that looked like fingerprints, at the points where Nigel had held him down, bruises on his neck and chest, where Nigel had kissed and bitten him, and he had to smile at the memory that Nigel would probably not look much better, with traces of their coupling all over his handsome body. No lover of his past had made him look like this, fucked out and traces that would be visible for days to come. Carefully, he touched an already dark bruise at his collarbone and smiled, remembering how Nigel had sucked that spot until he had been a whimpering mess, sitting in his lap, leaned forward and embraced by Nigel’s strong arms and hands, Nigel’s cock deep inside him, pulsing the condom full of his seed. Part of John wished that he would know how it felt to have the cock of the other man unsheathed inside him, feel his cum in his channel, feel him…

His cock twitched at the memory, and he almost rolled his eyes at himself, and turned to turn on the shower a little colder than he usually liked it-

He went to take a long shower, leaning his head against the tiled wall, eyes closed, the cool water running down his neck and cooling his still sore crack, trying to force the residue of his arousal down and to get his head free of the thousands of thoughts that were confusing him, trying to remember who he was and what he wanted.

And that was not Nigel.

Definitely not Nigel.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet the parents...

Thirteen days later, John stood with a happy expression next to Lisa and shook the hands of the next guest to their rehearsal dinner in a long line of people that John either had not met yet or had forgotten he had met them.

“So nice of you to come,” he said and nodded at the woman with the overly botoxed face and the bleached hair.

He was sure that he had seen her sometime before, maybe she was one of Lisa’s aunts or someone who had given large donations to her father’s election funds, but it did not matter. He smiled, shook her hand and smiled when she moved to greet Lisa with a hug and a wet kiss to her cheek which made him wince but seemed to not bother Lisa in the slightest.

His eyes searched the faces of the other guests, hoping to find a friendly face, someone that was there for him, but he realized that all the people that attended the party were friends, family and acquaintances of either Lisa or her father. Nobody was there for him.

But no. That was the wrong way to think. He was now a part of their family, he would be Lisa’s husband tomorrow, and it was not his fault that he had not many friends and not a widespread family like the Hamiltons were.

He smiled at the next guest, in who he recognized the secretary of Lisa’s father, a woman he had never liked and who always eyed him with a weird hunger in her eyes that made him uneasy. As soon as she had greeted Lisa and went away, he leaned towards his fiancée.

“Who invited her?” He asked her, the voice a hiss.

“Who?” She gave back. “Gwen?”

“Yes, Gwen. Who the fuck invited that creepy chick?”

Lisa looked at him in surprise.

“Pookie,” she said, sounding a little scandalized. “Why would you say such a thing? Gwen has been working for daddy since I was a little girl, she is family.”

“I sure hope she is not,” John gave back. “And her name was not on the guest list or I would have crossed her out.”

Lisa rolled her eyes at him.

“She is family,” she said. “Behave.”

John wanted to say something else, but Lisa had gone over to greet the next guest, another someone he had never met before and he started to ask himself if he was attending the right wedding.

Again, his eyes roamed the large, flamboyantly decorated room that he felt out of place in, but this was Lisa’s wedding, and she had every right to pick the colors and decoration she wanted and he had agreed to the arrangements of pink and white flowers, and the many balloons and golden accents.

“Hello, John, congratulations.”

John looked up and looked in the friendly, dark brown eyes of Brian, and returned the smile of his co-worker who had declared himself his friend, happily.

“Brian!” He exclaimed, giving Brian a half-hug, and grinning into the kind face of the taller man. “You could make it.”

Brian smiled.

“Of course,” he said. “We had to reschedule a few things for tonight, but I would never miss your wedding and everything that goes with it.”

John’s attention shifted to the other man who stood next to Brian, shifting a little nervous from one foot to the other. He was much smaller than Brian, reaching only his shoulder, with short black hair and curious dark eyes, his jaw angular and the lips full and wide. An attractive man who seemed to be some years younger than Brian himself. John smiled at him and offered him a hand.

“You must be…?” He offered, and the stranger smiled.

“Hi, I’m Nick,” he said. “I’d be the husband of Mister I-don’t-have-manners-so-I-forget-to-introduce-my-better-half.”

John laughed and Brian rolled his eyes.

“I do have manners,” Brian meant, his smile a little shy like it so often appeared.

“Not many,” Nick said and looked back at John. “Brian speaks highly of you, even if he doesn’t always agree with you. I’m very happy to finally put a face to the name. Thank you for inviting us.”

John smiled and nodded.

“It’s my pleasure,” he said. “You see that lady with the red hair? That’s Tiffany, she’s going to tell you which table you will sit at, it should be the one next to ours.”

Brian smiled and nodded and went to tell Lisa hello, followed by Nick who did the same.

As soon as they had moved away, Lisa leaned to him.

“Who was that?”

“Brian, my best man,” John said. “And Nick, his husband.”

Lisa’s eyes widened.

“His…husband?” She asked, staring at the two men who were talking to Tiffany, Nick making her laugh and Brian standing close behind the smaller man. “Did you know about that?”

John frowned.

“About what?”

“That Brian is…,” she went to whisper. “Homosexual?”

John raised a brow and looked again shortly at his co-worker and friend and his partner.

“Yes. Why is that important?”

“You should have informed me about that,” she whispered a little breathless. “How should I explain that to daddy?”

“That my friend and best man is gay?”

“Shhhh,” she made. “Someone could hear you.”

John laughed.

“I don’t think they are making it a secret, being married and all that?”

“Well, they should. I can’t believe you did not tell me that, we are getting married the day after tomorrow, how shall we get a new best man until then?”

John stared at her, not believing what she had just said.

“I beg your pardon?” He asked. “Brian is my friend. And I don’t give a shit who he sleeps with or who he is married to. He’s my best man and when you met him yesterday for the rehearsal you said you liked him.”

“I did not know the truth about him then!”

“Honestly,” John started exasperated. “I don’t care, Lisa. I will not change my best man in the last minute. For one, it would be an insult to Brian who happens to be my friend, and it would insult me.”

“We will talk about this,” Lisa said and went with a suddenly appearing smile to greet the next guest, while John continued to stare at her, and for a moment he was very close to snap at her and chastise her for her behavior.

How could he not have known what Lisa really thought?

“Excuse me,” he said and turned to leave the room to go out to the terrace and catch some fresh air before he did something he would regret later.

There, he leaned against the railing and closed his eyes. He craved a cigarette even though he had stopped to smoke years ago, but in moments like this, he was certain it would calm him, would make him less upset.

“Johnny,” a voice behind him said and he turned around in surprise, staring at the two people that were standing there in the door.

An honest, boyish smile appeared on his face, his eyes almost filling with tears, and he made two steps to give the woman standing there a tight hug, being wrapped into a group hug by the taller man who was standing behind her.

“You made it,” he whispered with a tear-filled voice. “Oh my God, you made it. When I heard your flight was delayed, I was sure you would not be here tonight.”

“We wouldn’t miss this, Johnny,” the woman said. “Not in this lifetime. Our son gets only married once.”

He chuckled and kissed her cheek and then went to hug his father and kiss him as well, getting his hair ruffled a little, some things that would never change as long as he lived.

“You have no idea how happy it makes me that you could make it,” he said.

“We said our hellos to Lisa and she told us you were hiding outside here,” his dad said. “Nerves?”

“Something like that, yeah,” he said, falling back to his Southern accent in the company of his parents. “Did you have a good journey?”

His father shrugged, so much like the shrug he often gave away.

“The flight was canceled, but we could change it to another,” he said. “It worked.”

“Thank fuck,” his mother said.

“Bernie,” his dad admonished her. “Language.”

Bernice Zabel chuckled.

“Nothing our boy has never heard before I’m sure,” she said, touching John’s face, a gesture he was leaning into, noticing how his mother looked at him with worry and he knew she had questions or remarks, but this moment they were asked back inside to take part in the rehearsal dinner.

The dinner itself was a luxurious affair with food that was as expensive as it was good. John listening to a short speech the governor held, without him having known that he would do that, and then was asked to say a few words.

He got up and looked down at Lisa, who held his hand.

“First of all, I want to thank you all for coming today,” he started. “I don’t want to give you a long speech about marriage and love and the vows we will exchange tomorrow. That will come in time. Today I want to thank family and friends, for their help and the love they have given us. I want to thank my best man, Brian, for helping me with lots of little details throughout the last weeks, things I would not have been able to do on my own, including picking the right underwear for my wedding night,” he winked. Lisa blushed next to him, while Brian gave him a thumbs up and Nick looked wide-eyed at his husband, whispering something that made Brian laugh. John watched the two men for a moment, how Nick held Brian’s hand, subtly, and how they looked at each other. While looking at them, he saw the doors open and the waiters with the last course arriving. “Well, it looks like coffee and dessert are served now,” he said. “Enjoy. Tomorrow, we will be back here and celebrate my wedding to this perfect, beautiful woman, who I am happy to spend the rest of my life with.”

He gave a nod and sat back down, having earned a short kiss from Lisa, and took a coffee, while not eating the dessert, not being a huge fan of crème brûlée.

After watching the other guests eat and chatter, his headache that had started minutes ago got worse and he gave Lisa a short kiss and told her that he again would need a little fresh air. Behind him he heard her father say something about him being a nervous wreck, after all, he was marrying his princess.

Again on the terrace, he sat down on a lawn chair and rubbed his temples, until he looked up at a sound and found his father standing in the door, looking at him in thought.

“Are you okay, Johnny?” He asked.

John nodded.

“You know I don’t like being called that,” he said, watching how his father approached him and sat down on a chair next to him, pulling a package of cigarettes from a pocket and lighting one. “Does mom know?”

“That I indulge in old bad habits? She pretends not to know,” he grinned and offered John a cigarette that he gladly accepted. “You look tired, Johnny.”

John sighed.

“I guess I am,” he said. “It’s been some stressful weeks. Work is a mess, the president is…well…not the sharpest tool in the shed, and being his advisor is not the easiest job I ever had. Then the wedding…”

“No, Johnny,” his dad said. “You look tired. You always worked too much, and you are always stressed. But you look like you haven’t slept in weeks. We’re worried.”

John looked at his father for a while and then only nodded.

“I am tired, you’re right,” he admitted.

Jeff Zabel nodded.

“Anything to do about that?”

“I hope it’ll be better after the wedding,” he said, taking a drag from the cigarette. “I think everything will calm down then.”

“You mean when Lisa has gotten what she wants.”

“How do you…,” he asked, surprised but then nodded. “Yeah, guess you’re right about that too.”

His father smiled and touched his leg.

“Johnny,” he started, noticing how John winced slightly being called that. “John. Are you happy?”

Instead of answering, John blinked a few times at his father and then avoided looking at him and exhaled smoke into another direction.

“Of course I am.”

The silence that hand between them for a few seconds was heavy with unsaid words, he heard his father take a deep breath and heard him sigh.

“You know, I’ve seen you happy before,” he said and John turned again to look at him. “I’ve seen you happy fifteen years ago, when you came back and told us. You beamed, everything about you was glowing and you could not stop talking about everything, about your plans and your future. That. That was a happy John. This,” he waved his hand at John. “This is not happy, John. This is miserable. What happened to the happiness you were able to feel then?”

John knit his brows together, his ocean colored eyes growing dark, significantly upset.

“You know very well what happened, thanks for reminding me,” he said and stood abruptly up, starting to leave, but Jeff stopped his son with a hand on his arm.

“We want you to be happy,” he said. “That’s all your mom and me want for you. What we ever wanted for you.”

“You were not happy for me back then,” he said. “You say I was happy, and yes I was, but you were not. You were ashamed, you yelled at me and told me I’m no longer your son, and then…”

“Yes,” Jeff said. “Yes, John. That is what I said, and I took it back hundredths of times. I will go down to my damn aching knees for you to forgive me. When you got the information on…on what happened, we were there, were we not? We both felt ashamed for not having seen your happiness before, for not having been happy for you, and I would do anything in the world to make that happen, anything. But we both know that that is impossible. With…what happened, with what they did, they took a part of you away, Johnny.”

John felt tears in his eyes, unwelcome and painful.

“The only thing I ask of you is to be happy. Are you happy, Johnny? Are you?”

John could not look his father into the eyes, instead, he looked down and then he shook his head.

“I don’t know, dad,” he whispered. “I don’t think I have it in me to be happy again. Maybe I don’t deserve it.”

“If anyone deserves to be happy, it’s you,” Jeff said. “Especially after what you have gone through.”

John shook his head.

“I’m not a good man, dad,” he said, now looking up. “I only ever wanted you to be proud of me, but then you disowned me…yes, you took that back after, but the pain is still here with me. The look in both your eyes when I told you, the disappointment and the anger. I love you, dad. That will never change, but the man I was did not make my parents proud, the man I have become, he doesn’t know what happiness is, and he will never again. That ship has sailed.”

“But, John, we are proud of you. Oh, we are so proud. Our son is a presidential advisor, you’re a man of influence and power, you are…”

“I’m racist, dad. I call people from the Middle East terrorists, and I don’t give a shit about what happens to them,” he snapped. “If the president would declare another gulf war, I would be the one who celebrates. I wouldn’t care if millions of people over there get killed. Is that the son you are proud of?”

His father nodded slowly.

“When you know it’s wrong to think those things, John, don’t you think you could change them?”

“I don’t want to change them, dad,” he said. “I want them to suffer. I want them to be wiped out. I want…”

“You want them to be punished.”

John wiped the angry tears from his face.

“John,” his dad started. “I know the pain you are going through…”

“No, dad, with all due respect, you do not. You will never know and you should be happy about that.”

Jeff took John’s hand into his and squeezed it.

“I don’t care if you’re racist. I don’t care if you’re gay or straight. I don’t care if you’re cleaning toilets or are working directly with the president. I don’t care if you were the best of your class and gave a speech at Harvard, or if you didn’t finish high school,” he said. “All I care about, and I know I speak for your mom as well, is that we want you to be happy. If that woman in there, that American princess, is not making you happy…”

“She is!”

“Who are you trying to convince?”

John balled his hands into fists.

“Johnny,” his dad said.

“Please, dad, don’t call me that,” he said. “That is the name of a boy, not mine.”

“That boy was my son. And I fucking call him whatever I want.”

“It brings back bad memories, dad.”

Jeff touched John’s cheek, making him look at him.

“Are those memories really bad? Or are they just memories.”

John held a breath and licked his lips.

He wanted to say something, but the door opened and two of Lisa’s friends came out, laughing and holding glasses of champagne.

“We should go back in,” John said. “Lisa is staying here in the hotel tonight, I should go home. There’s a lot to do tomorrow.”

“You’re getting married tomorrow,” Jeff said, holding his son’s hand, who held onto him for a moment before he let go and went to return inside. “John?”

John turned around, looking again at his father, who looked so much like an older version of himself, with grey in the beard and short hair that was still longer than his own, falling in soft waves into his forehead, with sparkling blue-green eyes and a lopsided smile.

“Promise me you will do the right thing,” Jeff said.

John nodded.

“I always do the right thing,” he said and returned back inside.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

An hour later, John was sitting in his car, not so sure anymore about his confidence.

Lisa and her bridesmaids were staying in a suite and had retreated with more champagne and like a giggling group of teenagers and not like the successful women they were, his parents had gone to the room he had booked for them, and given him worried looks when he said goodbye, wanting to go home and sleep before he had to get ready tomorrow for his own wedding.

It still felt unreal that his life would take a new turn tomorrow, something that a few months ago he had not thought he would ever do. But it was the right choice for his career, Lisa was a wonderful woman and he could call himself happy.

Only he was not.

With a moan he leaned forward and put his head onto the steering wheel and after a few seconds, he looked back up.

Whatever had been the reason to drive here instead of home, he had made this choice on his own, but he could still just drive away again, go home, and get into his bed and sleep. Maybe he could just empty the expensive bottle of bourbon they had at home, drink himself tired and wake up with a headache. No. That was no option either.

He raised his head and sighed.

His heart raced and his stomach felt nauseous.

Feeling some weird, sudden rush of adrenaline, John left his car, locked it and started to walk.

The bouncer grinned at him and gave him a nod when he passed two men who were waiting to be left in, and he found his way right to the stairs.

Darko looked at him from the bar and said something to his colleague, left the bar and went after him.

“John,” he said, stopping him shortly before he reached the top of the stairs. “What are you doing here?”

“I think that is obvious, isn’t it?” He snarled and went past him.

“Don’t hurt him.”

John stopped again in his steps and turned to look shortly at the other man, turned then back around and went ahead to Nigel’s office.

This time, he took not the time to knock, instead he opened the door and went straight inside.

He found Nigel standing at his desk, again handsome clad all in black, leaning against the table and in a conversation with one of his whores who looked angry. Both stared at the intruder, who suddenly felt lost and out of place standing there.

“That is fucking all, Natalie,” Nigel said and the girl stood up, leaving the room without another word. “Fucking stole money from a john.”

John winced.

“Bad for your business.”

“Damn fucking right,” Nigel said, looking at John, who remained standing there. “What the fuck do you want?”

“I…,” John started.

“I fucking told you that I never want to see you again. I think I made that fucking clear.”

John nodded and now made a few steps towards Nigel until he was standing in front of him.

“I know what you said,” he said, his voice a whisper. “I’m getting married tomorrow.”

Nigel looked at him, slowly shaking his head and then he let out a short laugh. But it did not sound amused. It sounded disappointed. It sounded sad.

“What the fuck do you want, Johnny?” Nigel asked, and John noticed how his voice sounded thin.

John stepped even closer. He raised his hands and put both hands against Nigel’s chest, feeling his heartbeat under the palms of his hands, felt the warm body that he already had gotten to know so well, that he knew the color of the chest hair underneath that black shirt, that he knew what Nigel smelled like and what he sounded like when he came. Still, he did not dare to look at him and held his head lowered until Nigel touched his chin and raised his head until he looked again at him.

“What do you want from me, John?” Nigel repeated in a serious tone. "Tell me."

John looked into those brown eyes, that weird brown that had always reminded him of whiskey, a soft and warm golden brown like he had never seen before in eyes. Brown, and still not the same. Like everything about Nigel was different. New.

“I…,” he started again. “I want you to make love to me.”


	12. Chapter 12

„What did you just fucking say?“ Nigel asked, his voice with the sound of clear annoyance and still John thought he heard something like vulnerability in his words.

“You heard me,” John whispered, still looking into Nigel’s eyes.

Nigel nodded slowly.

“Fucking say it again.”

John raised a brow and the hint on an insecure smile appeared on his lips, unsure what to make of Nigel’s reaction.

“I want you to make love to me,” he repeated.

Nigel licked his lips, like he seemed to always do when he considered what was happening. His eyes flicked over John’s face, his lips, until they settled again on his eyes.

“John,” Nigel said, and John noticed that he had stopped using the dreaded nickname.

John smiled and let his right hand glide up the other man’s chest.

“What will happen tomorrow?” The Romanian asked.

John closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“I can’t lie to you,” he said, which made Nigel raise his brows. “Okay, yes I could, but I won’t. I don’t know what this is between us. I only know that I need you tonight. I…I need to feel something, Nigel. I need to feel like…I need to feel like myself.”

He felt his eyes getting wet, and lowered his gaze, hoping that he would not start to cry while facing Nigel, not wanting to show more weakness than he wanted to allow himself.

Nigel cupped his cheek in one hand and John looked back at him.

“Still no kissing?” Nigel asked, a small smile on his lips, knowing the answer.

“Still no kissing,” John said and replied the smile and then felt how Nigel kissed instead of his lips his cheek, rubbing his own cheek against his, warm breath touching John’s ear like a tender caress.

He closed his eyes and moaned softly into the touch, his breath a shaky sigh.

John almost fell into Nigel’s embrace, being pulled close and feeling the strong lines of the other man’s body pressed against his, whispers in a foreign language he did not understand in his hair and his face pressed against Nigel’s shoulder. His hands found leverage in Nigel’s shirt and he made a careful step backward, trying to get to the couch, but Nigel stopped him.

“No,” the criminal said. “Not here.”

John frowned, for a moment not understanding, and then felt Nigel’s hand close around his and was dragged out of the office.

“Wait here,” Nigel said when they reached the stairs, where he leaned over the railing. “Yo, Darko!” he yelled.

Over his shoulder, John saw that Darko, who was at the bar, raised his head.

“I’m upstairs the rest of the night. Don’t dare to fucking disturb us!”

John chuckled while Darko rolled his eyes but gave his boss and friend a thumbs up.

“What’s upstairs?” John asked when Nigel turned back to him, again taking his hand and leading him upwards.

“My place,” was the short answer.

John raised his brows.

“Your…place?”

Nigel turned to him when they reached the upper floor and fished a key out of the pocket of his black jeans.

“Yeah, my fucking place,” he said, sounding exasperated. “Did you think I live in my office or what?”

John had a snarky reply on his lips, but just sighed instead and finally followed Nigel, who closed the door after they had entered.

He was surprised at the living space that they had set foot in. It was a loft, probably taking the whole floor, which high walls and large windows to both sides. It looked like there were still renovations going on, with plastic covers on the floors and hang over several pieces of furniture, ladders and buckets standing here and there.

“You’re renovating?” John asked and heard Nigel chuckle behind him, getting closer and then pulling his back against his front, kissing his neck.

“Fucking observant,” Nigel said. “No, I like the building site décor, thanks very much, John.”

“Smartass,” John smiled. “Looks like a great place to live.”

“Hmm,” Nigel made, licking slowly up John’s neck. “It’s still going to take some months of work until everything is the way I want it, but at least I have a bed.”

“A bed, huh?”

Nigel bit into John’s earlobe.

“Damn fucking right,” he whispered right into his ear, making him shudder. “A large bed.”

John hummed and leaned his head back against Nigel’s shoulder, feeling the other’s hands move over his torso, and a few fingers pushing under the waistband of his trousers.

“And where do we find this large bed?” John asked, covering Nigel’s hand, that was touching with feather-light fingers his half-hard cock through his trousers, with his.

Nigel pushed him and John could not avoid to snort when he stumbled a step forward and then was led by Nigel into a room next to the large living space, and was welcomed there by an indeed large bed that stood at the center of the back wall. This room as well was not yet finished, with rough stone walls and the only furniture in it a bed, bedside table with a lamp, a dresser and a large mirror next to it. John got an idea of what Nigel was intending to do with the room, but he also noticed that he seemed undecided, as if some last glimpse of imagination to complete what he had started here was missing.

“This is nice,” he still said.

“It’s a fucking building site, that’s what it is,” Nigel said while pulling John’s jacket over his shoulders and letting it drop to the floor.

“Okay,” John meant. “It will be nice once you’re finished.”

“Hm,” Nigel made again. “One fucking day maybe.”

John turned around to face him and immediately his hands went up to open the buttons of Nigel’s black shirt that stuck to him like a second skin, uncovering the thick chest hair that he had grown fond of. His spread fingers went through the soft curls, feeling Nigel hold his breath at the touch and then moan, while his own fingers started to work on John’s shirt, but while John dragged the shirt over Nigel’s shoulders, Nigel let John’s opened on his body, only leaning down to leave a trail of kisses on John’s neck. Nigel’s left hand went directly to John’s trousers, opening them and John help and shrugged out of the trousers, slipping out of his shoes and socks in the same movement and was again pulled into a close embrace by the taller man, who let his hands roam over his back and head and again whispered nothings into his ear, having noticed what the warm breath hitting him there did to him.

John as well started to undress Nigel, who already was out of his shoes, and his pants and briefs followed shortly the way of John’s clothing to the floor. The sight of his already hard shaft made John’s mouth water, but when he moved to go down on his knees and worship Nigel in the way he knew would make Nigel shiver in arousal, Nigel stopped him to his surprise and instead turned him around again.

They were facing the mirror and John tried for a moment to move away, not wanting to see what he had become, what he was about to do, but Nigel held him in his embrace, one hand closing without threat around his throat.

“Look at you,” Nigel whispered into another kiss to John’s neck, while his free hand went over John’s baby smooth chest. “So fucking gorgeous.”

Their eyes met in their reflection in the mirror. There was an intimacy in the way they looked at each other, the way their eyes were locked into each other, that John had not expected, had not experienced in many years. Something unknown, something new.

Nigel pulled the white shirt John was wearing off his shoulders, but still did not pull it off his body the whole way, letting his hands return to his torso and started to run his fingers over the lines of John’s body, touching muscle, touching skin, leaving John already trembling at the mere touch. John knew that if he was not leaned against Nigel, who stood still behind him, watching them in the mirror, he would lose balance. When Nigel’s hand went down to the briefs John wore, he cupped the silhouette of his cock that had long grown hard and was begging for attention, painting a wet spot into the fabric. John closed his eyes for a second, but could not withstand the desire to watch them together, watch how Nigel touched him like he was something precious, someone, who was desired.

John watched Nigel kiss again his cheek while massaging his cock through the fabric, making John moan and lean his head back onto Nigel’s shoulder in reaction. Elegant long fingers were caressing his skin, almost unbearable gentle, before Nigel went on to tease John’s nipples that were already begging for attention. He let out a hiss when Nigel tweaked one hard bud, twisting it between his fingertips, squeezing his eyes shut and again opening, enchanted by the erotic and intimate picture in front of him.

Again, Nigel’s hand went down, touching his hardness, and then turned the younger man around, pulling him close and pulling in the same moment the shirt lower so that the fabric was binding John’s arms to his back, restricting him. He wanted to tell Nigel that he did not like this kind of game, no matter how erotic many others may found it, but then forgot about his reservations when Nigel started to lick and kiss down his neck and towards his chest, flicking his tongue over a nipple, sucking only shortly at it and turning his attention to its twin and giving it the same treatment, and while he was doing so, he pulled the shirt off John completely.

They looked into each other’s eyes, Nigel having a smug smile on his lips when he leaned towards John’s shoulder, kissing and sucking at his collarbone, and John’s mind was crossed for a moment by the thought that he would spend his wedding night wearing the love bites of someone else but his wife all over his body, and maybe that was the reason that Nigel did this. He marked him, leaving no doubt who had desired him, who had pleased him to no limits and made him forget all the things he believed in.

John twisted himself out of Nigel’s embrace, kissing his neck and sternum, licking a path through his chest hair and going down to his knees, looking up and seeing how Nigel bit his lower lip. Slowly, he licked around the tip of Nigel’s cock before taking him deep into his mouth, still looking up at him, his tongue pressed flat against the underside of the shaft, the fingers of Nigel’s hand pulling at his short hair. His own hands found the hips of the still-standing man, holding him there. He hummed and knew from their past experience what Nigel’s reaction would be and he was not disappointed when Nigel let out a hiss and his thighs trembled, starting to let himself go in the pleasure John was giving him. He was looking down at the beautiful man whose eyes were watering as he took him deeper into his throat, and his almost begging eyes urged him to start with slow movements, fucking his face slowly and as gentle as he could. John reached up and touched his chest with one hand, while Nigel was bending over and reached for John’s ass, letting two fingers glide into his crack-

Suddenly, John was pulled up and Nigel held him again while one hand worked on pushing his briefs down, and finally, with fingers covered in his saliva, started to tease the space between John’s butt cheeks, circling his hole and pushing one finger slowly inside to the first knuckle only, moving it just a little before he pulled out again, not wanting to do too much too soon, but returned to repeat the ministrations, pulling John’s cheeks apart, fucking him with his finger until John pushed back and his digit slipped in deeper. John’s eyes rolled back in his head and he whimpered into Nigel’s shoulder.

Nigel made a step back and sat down on the edge of the comfortable looking bed. He touched his own nipples, twisting them just in the right way and intensity when John went down again to his knees and worshipped again the perfect cock that alone touching caused him to feel the flutter of desire all over his body. Nigel reached for John’s ass and touched his opening with now two of his fingers. The blowjob John was giving him became sloppy and John lost more and more spit while working Nigel even harder than he already had been. Nigel leaned forward as good as he could and let his own saliva dripped out of his mouth and onto John’s ass, using the saliva as lube and rubbing it into his puckered skin, easing the way for two of his long fingers, twisting and moving them, loosening John up for what was to come. He made John stand up and pushed his briefs now finally down his legs completely, pulling him close to kiss his belly and hipbones and then pushed him to his side onto the bed.

Nigel kissed and licked down John’s body, licking circles around his belly button when he found that area to be especially sensitive. His nose grazed the hair surrounding the base of his cocked, the thought of what he would look like maybe not completely shaved but neatly trimmed around here, but then shrugged the thought of when he hooked both of John’s toned legs over his shoulders, opening him up for him in this position and going down on him without hesitation. He kissed the younger man’s balls and licked over his perineum, taking John’s cock into one hand and pulled it towards him, sucking him slowly into his mouth, as deep as it would get while being comfortable. Letting again slowly go of him and repeating the motion, he finally sucked only the head between his lips and let his tongue press against his slit. John held his head with one hand when Nigel returned to pleasure his quivering opening with his lips and tongue, licking him open and loose. His stubble was scratchy on his ass, a feeling that John did not know he needed and craved. He was stroking himself while Nigel rimmed him further, licking into him, pushing a thumb inside him and hooking it against his rim.

John found himself to not care that Nigel was looking at the most private parts of his body, at parts of his body he should have been ashamed to show anyone, let alone a man he still hardly knew. He arched his back with a moan when Nigel fucked him with two of his fingers while still licking around his opening.

When Nigel licked over his perineum again, John was looking down at him, their eyes again meeting, blown wide and dark with lust, three fingers stretching John. Nigel kissed his ass cheeks, his bent thigh and sucked a small hickey into his skin there, and again, John did not care.

Nigel moved up and covered John’s body with his, their cocks resting against each other, both heated and throbbing. Without penetration, Nigel moved as if he was already fucking John, his cock slipping in long strokes against John’s, rocking their bodies together in a gentle rhythm.

John’s legs fell open, spread wide, when Nigel sat up. He scooted to the nightstand and pulled lube and a condom from the drawer, then again kneeling between John’s legs and opening the wrapper, but a hand on his wrist stopped him.

Surprised, he looked at John, what was leaning on one of his arms.

“Nigel,” he said. “I…”

He hesitated.

“What is it, gorgeous?” Nigel said. “Cold feet?”

John smirked shortly.

“No,” he replied. “I…God, that is going to sound so weird, but…I’m clean.”

Nigel stared at him for a moment and then raised a brow.

“You mean…,” he started, not wanting to assume something wrong.

John nodded slowly.

“I know it’s reckless and irresponsible,” he whispered. “But just this once. Let me have this. Please.”

John sounded like he was starving to be touched, drowning in emotions, and when Nigel only nodded and covered his bare cock with lube, he let out a sigh.

Their eyes did not leave each other when Nigel pushed slowly into him, his soft skin meeting the wet heat of John’s body.

And then he held still.

It was too much.

It was not enough.

It would never be enough.

Nigel looked down into John’s ocean eyes and what he saw filled and broke his heart at the same time.

Tears.

“I…,” Nigel whispered. “Do I hurt you?”

John smiled helplessly and shook his head.

“Never.”

Nigel bent down and kissed his cheek, still considering the demand to not be kissed and started to move inside him, pulling out until only the head of his cock was connecting them intimately, and then pushed back in all the way. After a few of those slow and deep thrusts, Nigel started to pick up speed and finally started to fuck John in earnest. With every thrust he managed to his the bundle of nerves inside him, making John whimper and moan, starting to pull screams of passion from his throat. John hooked a leg around Nigel’s hips, pressing him against him, urging him to go deeper and not to leave him, holding onto him with both hands, a bundle of legs and arms, wrapped around the other man.

The older man started to alternate between fucking John slow and gentle and then hard and deep, every time making John writhe beneath him, fingernails scratching over his back, cupping Nigel’s firm ass, feather-light touches over the fine hair. Nigel’s balls slapped hard against John’s ass, a sound that filled the room in unison with their moans, echoing from the empty walls.

Nigel turned them to the side, his muscular arms pulling John with him without slipping out of him. He held John tight in his embrace, kissing and licking over his shoulder and then turned further until he was on his back and John on top of him.

After a few tentative movements of his hips, John moved to sit up and let his hips sink further down and take Nigel’s length completely. He circled his hips and pushed himself as far down as possible, grinding against Nigel’s groin. With glee he watched how Nigel closed his eyes, grinding his teeth and arching his neck back, the intensity for either man bordering on unbearable.

“Nigel,” John moaned. “Oh God, Nigel.”

Nigel’s hand slid up John’s stomach.

“So fucking perfect,” Nigel moaned. “Fuck John, yes, so good. So fucking good.”

Nigel moved his hips to fuck up into him, hitting against that spot that made him moan even louder. John’s whole body was arched back, tense and spasming in his arousal, his cock hard and slapping against his own body, leaking fluid over Nigel’s.

He reached to grab the ass of the man riding him, held him open and managed to penetrate him even deeper. They moved together as if they were part of an intimate dance, as if they had never done anything else in their lives. Nigel could not remember that it ever had felt like it felt with John.

His John.

No.

Not his John.

Never his John.

Nigel shook his head, trying to force the thought out of his head and grabbed John’s hips and pulled him down, holding his head in a hand and pressing John close against himself, feeling how his orgasm was getting closer and closer.

“Nu vreau să te pierd,“ Nigel whispered, falling back into his first language. “John. Fii al meu. Te rog, John. Nu mă pot îndrăgosti de tine.”

John whimpered when he again hit his prostate. He looked down at the older man, the silver hair a mess of sweaty strands and the handsome face flushed and oh so gorgeous and unforgettable. He moved his hips harder, forcing both of them to get closer to their release. He rubbed his cheek against Nigel’s, closing his eyes.

“Nigel,” he moaned. “Oh my God, yes. Yes. Babe, I’m…so close.”

“Then come for me,” Nigel whispered right into his ear. “Come on my cock, my love.”

And John came. Thick spurts of come first dripping and then flowing from his cock as his prostate was stimulated continuously. He shivered and trembled, he lost control over his body and convulsed in Nigel’s arms, realizing that the reason that he came this hard, this spontaneous and uncontrollably was that Nigel was coming as well, inside him, filling him with hot seed. Never before had John felt this, never before had he allowed someone to take him apart like this, to see him this vulnerable and exposed. He panted hard, his heart drumming wildly in his chest, blood rushing in his ears.

Only slowly he raised his head, looking down into Nigel’s eyes, seeing a mirror of his own emotions in the other man’s face.

There were tears in Nigel’s beautiful and so unique eyes, his light brown lashes covered in wetness and the eyes shimmering. John too felt his eyes stinging and wetness on his cheeks, and he knew it was not part of the sweat that was covering them both. He was crying, and still he felt more complete, more fulfilled than ever in his life.

He could not understand what was going on. It was overwhelming and the smile they shared was proof that they both had let go of their defenses.

“Nigel,” John whispered, and found his face held in both of Nigel’s hands.

He lowered his head, his lips open.

This was it.

This was what was unavoidable.

So close.

Only an inch.

A hint of air separating them.

Drinking each other’s breath.

Now.

“NIGEL!”

John almost jumped in shock off Nigel’s body but was held tight, even though Nigel snarled in anger, his head turning towards the door that was pushed open and both men looked in surprise at Darko, who stood there, out of breath and pale.

“What the fuck?” Nigel growled. “I’m going to skin you, you fucker. I hope you have a fucking good excuse.”

“It’s Tess,” Darko said, and John felt how Nigel’s body grew tense. “She’s been attacked.”

Nigel looked only shortly at John who nodded and then slipped off Nigel’s body, uncaring that they both were naked in front of Nigel’s friend, and went to the edge of the bed, grabbing his pants and shirt and stood up to get into his clothes.

When he looked up, he saw that Nigel was already in shirt and pants as well, and was staring at John.

“What the fuck do you think where you’re going?” He asked. “Stay here, wait for me.”

John understood what he implied.

“I’m not leaving,” he said. “I’m going with you.”

Nigel frowned and then gave a nod.

“What the fuck happened?” He asked Darko, who was leading the way, followed by John, who was still buttoning his shirt.

“Tess went to clean a room, Julie told her she should, but the guy she had been with was still there, and he, God Nigel, he thought he could have Tess,” Darko said, rushing down the stairs. “She fought back, brave little thing, but he…he did not take it well.”

John saw how Nigel’s hands were balled into fists and how his shoulders were drawn up. A predator close to attack, body language John had seen before.

A red-haired whore was standing in the hallway, biting her lip, the pretty face in tears that had smeared her makeup.

“I’m so sorry, Nigel,” she said.

“Did you know he was in there when you sent her in?” He asked her, standing right in front of her.

“I’m sorry…I didn’t…”

“Did you fucking know he was still in there?!” He yelled into her face.

It was John who went between them, shoving his shoulder into the small space that was separating them.

“Nigel,” he said, raising a hand. “She didn’t do it on purpose.”

Nigel raised a hand as well and pointed a finger at the girl in a threatening gesture, and John saw every calmness, every control having slipped from the man he had just had sex with. This man was dangerous.

Nigel turned and followed Darko into the room, John on his heels, and both men stopped in their tracks at the sight that unfolded in front of them.

“Oh God,” John whispered.

There was blood. Everywhere was blood. Broken furniture and glass were scattered on the floor, the bedding torn of the bed, a lamp tipped over. It looked like a battlefield.

The bounced stood in front of a man who was sitting on the floor in a corner, nose bloody and the face an angry snarl. He was handsome, well-dressed. Someone with power who had played a game and lost.

But that was not important.

John’s eyes shifted towards the small figure that was laying on the floor, in a puddle of her own blood, the t-shirt ripped of a body that was too thin, the skin clammy and pale.

He slipped to his knees, not caring that he got blood on his clothes. He touched Tess’ face carefully with a hand. She was curled into herself, holding her stomach and sobbed. It broke his heart.

“Tess,” John whispered. “Hey, Tess. Do you know who I am?” She stared at him with wide eyes. “I’m John, you remember me? Nigel’s friend. Where does it hurt, darling?”

She sobbed and tried to hide her head from him, and when he tried to touch her hair she shrieked away in fear.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “You’ll be okay, yes? Tess, darling, you have to tell me where it hurts.”

“My…my head,” she sobbed. “Belly.”

John nodded and looked at her. There was a laceration on her forehead, and there was blood on her torn shirt, cuts on her pretty face.

“Nigel,” he said, looking up and seeing that Nigel had turned his attention towards the protesting man in the corner. “We need an ambulance.”

Nigel turned towards John.

“We need an ambulance, she may has a concussion and I don’t know how bad her injuries are. She needs to see a doctor,” he continued.

“The little bitch wanted it!” The stranger yelled. “She’s just a dirty whore.”

Nigel closed his eyes, fighting for composure.

“Nigel,” John repeated and when Nigel did not react, his voice took a sharper tone. “Nigel! Get a fucking ambulance here. Now!”

“We can’t do that,” Darko said.

John looked at the other man, sitting down on the floor and carefully pulling Tess into his lap. She was whimpering and sobbing, and crawled further into his arms that embraced her. He stroked her hair, blood now on his shirt.

“She’s illegal,” Nigel said. “And she’s underage. They’ll fucking send her back.”

John frowned, not understanding the whole picture but at least getting what it implied, and then nodded.

Slowly he raised himself to his knees and stood up, lifting Tess, who was weighing not more than a child, into his arms.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Nigel asked.

John had gone two careful steps with Tess in his arms towards the door.

“I’m getting her upstairs,” he said. “She needs to rest. At least that.”

Nigel and John looked into each other’s eyes and then Nigel nodded.

John brought Tess into Nigel’s loft and put her onto the bed where he and Nigel had just had sex, hoping that the stench of their fucking was not too heavy in the air. He found clean sheets in a sideboard and changed the bedsheet and then went to find the bathroom and got some supplies from there.

Of course a man like Nigel would be equipped with antibiotics, antiseptic bandages and even tools to stitch up wounds, which John would though not try himself.

Equipped with a bowl of lukewarm water and everything he thought useful, he returned to the bedroom, where Tess was crying and cramping. Quickly he put everything onto the floor and sat down next to her on the bed.

“Tess,” he whispered. “I’m going to clean your wounds, okay? It will hurt.”

She whimpered at the thought.

“Did that man do something else to you? Did he touch you?”

“Tried,” she whispered under tears. “John, hurts so much.”

“Where does it hurt the most, love?”

“My belly.”

John nodded and raised carefully the edge of her shirt, finding underneath another laceration that looked deep.

“John,” she whispered, her voice breaking under tears. “Don’t want to die.”

“You will not die, love,” he said, trying to sound confident. "We'll get you back on your feet in no time."

He continued to clean the wounds on her forehead, where a bruise was already appearing. That asshole. He hoped that Nigel took good care of the man who hurt this sweet girl.

“I want to fall in love,” she sniffed suddenly.

John smiled softly.

“You’ve never been in love?”

She shook her head, watching with scared eyes how John was cleaning the blood off her stomach, grateful that the wound did not bleed anymore.

“Have you?” She asked.

He looked at her large blue, innocent eyes, considering her words for a moment.

“Yes, I have,” he said, a sad smile on his face. “I’ll never love again.”

Tess looked at him and nodded, taking his hand into his when she sensed his sadness.

Her eyes then shifted to something behind him and when he looked over his shoulder, he saw Nigel standing there, blood on his hands and his eyes empty.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Get the tissues ready...I made myself cry while writing. 😭😭😭

“How is she?” Nigel asked when John left the bedroom half an hour later while drying his hands on a towel.

John sighed.

“She’s fallen asleep,” he said. “I gave her two of the really strong, and really illegal painkillers I found in your bathroom. I don’t know if she needs stitching.”

“I’ll have a look later,” Nigel said, leaning his head back against the back of the comfortable looking sofa he had taken the plastic cover off and was resting on.

John plopped down next to him, leaning forward and rubbing his face with both hands.

“You have blood there,” Nigel said and John looked up, checking his hands which were clean though.

“Where?”

“Your feet,” Nigel answered and when John looked down he found himself still barefoot and having a cut at his right foot.

“Fuck,” John hissed. “I didn’t notice.”

He took the towel he had carried with him and rubbed it against the cut.

“I know what you said, but I still think she needs to see a doctor,” John said, pulling the not bleeding foot up onto the sofa.

“Not a fucking option,” Nigel said and took the beer bottle that he had been holding in his left hand to drink from it, offering it to John who gladly accepted.

Handing the bottle back over, John pressed his lips together.

“What’s her story?” He asked.

Nigel looked at him, obviously considering if he should tell John about it, and then nodded.

“Knew a guy in Bucharest, fucking asshole, but he had good deals to do with him. Drugs and fucking stuff,” he started, avoiding to look at John, the muscles in his jaw moving, hesitating to continue.

When nothing further came, John reached over and touched Nigel’s arm, scooting closer to Nigel, who pulled John’s leg into his lap like they had sat together like this before, in comfortable togetherness.

“I didn’t fucking know much about him, offered me one of his daughters several times as part of the deal but I declined, fucking thought he was joking,” Nigel continued finally. “After the shit show with my ex, I left Romania and came here, that was around seven years ago. Started the club, started a new fucking life.” He took another swig of the beer, handing the bottle again to John. “Last year I got word that the fucker was doing business here, got in my way, so I fucking went to his place and had a few fucking words with him. He said he was busy, that I interrupted him fucking his girl, and I fucking thought he meant his girlfriend or a whore or whatever. Didn’t fucking expect to find his own daughter in his bedroom, beaten to fucking pulp and…”

He took the bottle from John again and emptied it.

“Fucking wanted to kill him for that, but he got away, fucking asshole,” Nigel hissed. “I brought her here. If the cops get hold of her, they will bring her back to him, John. She’s not eighteen yet and she’s illegal. Can’t let that fucking happen.”

John nodded.

“I won’t report this,” John said. “I have no reason to if you take care of her. Promise you will.”

“Fucking swear.”

“Good. What happened to the guy who beat her?”

Nigel looked at John for a while and then again avoided his eyes.

“Got what he fucking deserved.”

When Nigel looked up, he looked like he was looking for John’s reaction, but instead of being scandalized like he expected from a reputable politician, John nodded.

“Good,” he said. “If you hadn’t, I would’ve.”

Nigel smiled.

“You are a fucking surprise, John Zabel.”

John shrugged with a short smile.

They sat next to each other for a while without a word, Nigel just silently rubbing John’s foot that was still in his lap.

“You said something in Romanian when we were…”

“…fucking.”

“Yeah,” John let out a laugh. “What did you say?”

“Nothing,” Nigel said. “I don’t fucking remember, just some naughty stuff.”

John nodded.

“That makes sense. Wish I would’ve understood you. Maybe I should learn Romanian.”

Nigel raised a brow when he looked at him.

“You’re getting married today,” Nigel whispered.

John huffed.

“Yeah,” he only said, leaning back and rubbing his eyes. “I’m sorry. I know we…”

“How many languages do you fucking know?” Nigel asked, changing the topic.

“Eight.”

Nigel huffed.

“Fucking genius,” he said. “Which languages do you know?”

“English, obviously. Learned Spanish and German in school,” he continued. “I’m fluent in Farsi and MSA, doing pretty good with Levantine, that’s another Arabic dialect,” he explained at Nigel’s raised brow. “That’s spoken in Syria for example. I understand and read Russian and French.”

“That’s fucking impressive. What’s MSA?”

“Modern Standard Arabic,” John said.

“So, did you learn all that while you are already a fucking politician, or do you just like to be fucking smart?”

John laughed.

“Bit of both, I guess.”

Nigel squeezed his foot and painted circles onto his skin with a fingertip, lost in thought.

“You told Tess that you’ve been in love.”

John moved his foot away from him and sat up, leaning forward and rested his arms on his legs.

“You heard that,” he stated, no question in his voice.

“Guess that’s a good thing when you’re fucking getting married.”

John looked over his shoulder at Nigel and then looked back onto the floor.

“I was not talking about Lisa,” he whispered.

“Then who were you talking about?” Nigel asked. “Who fucking broke your heart?”

John smiled shortly to himself, shaking his head and forcing the sadness and dread to vanish from his thoughts.

“Tell me who did this to you,” Nigel said, sounding serious.

“I…it’s not a nice story,” John said, avoiding to look at Nigel. “I went to college in Harvard and graduated summa cum laude, politics, Iranian and Arabic studies. I knew what I wanted to do. Bright eyes, small-town boy from rural Louisiana, wanted to change the world, build bridges and understand. I was a fucking idiot.” He started. “I was 23 and oh my God, I was so thrilled when I got an assignment as a translator at the Swiss embassy in Tehran, that’s the capital of Iran.”

“I fucking know what Tehran is,” Nigel said, sounding a little annoyed.

John chuckled.

“Lisa doesn’t. Can’t tell Tirana and Tehran apart,” he explained. “Anyway, I got an assistant job in the embassy and I was over the moon. My mom and dad were proud, yet a little scared for my safety, but I was naïve. There’s no longer a US embassy in Iran, and the Swiss have a US Interests Section in theirs. It was a civilian job that I only got through connections, US citizens are not quite popular in Iran still. So, I went there, looking forward to the experience and everything else, and did not listen to all the red flags everyone was waving at me. The job was good, it was fun. My co-workers were nice and welcomed me, also the Irani liaisons,” he continued. “Then one of the secretaries broke her arm and I went with her to the hospital, her Farsi was not as good as mine and she was scared she would not get the right treatment. While waiting there, I met him.”

John hesitated, the memory of that first meeting rising up at him, and he felt the burning of tears already behind his eyes.

“He was…he was the most beautiful man I have ever laid eyes on. Dark wavy hair, a little too long, full beard, and black eyes that looked like they were on fire,” John blinked a tear away. “He was as an assistant doctor at the hospital.”

“What’s his name?” Nigel asked, feeling that John was fighting with his emotions.

“Amin. Amin Shirvani,” he said. “He was four years older than me, and he was not as reserved and unfriendly when he realized I was an American. A few days later we met by coincidence on a market, and we went to have a coffee together. He was different from most Irani people I met, very open-minded and curious, we became friends fast, spent time together. He took me to meet his family, his parents and brothers, his sister. They were nice too, welcoming. He showed me Tehran and we spoke for hours. Amin spoke English, had gone to university in London for a while, and he made fun of my accent all the time, said I sounded like some ninety-year-old scholar and not like the boy I was. Before I knew what happened, I was in love.” John stopped and took a few deep breaths, feeling Nigel’s hand on his hip. “I’ve been attracted to guys before, but I still was in the closet and I was scared and surprised by my feelings. I mean, I was in love with a man who would never return my feelings, so I started to avoid him, canceled plans and didn’t take his calls anymore, until he showed up at my apartment and we had a fight. I made up excuses and said a few harsh things, I lashed out.”

“You tried to protect yourself,” Nigel meant.

John nodded.

“He was insulted, he stared at me and left,” John said. “I saw the pain in his eyes and after a few minutes I ran after him. I couldn’t bear to lose him. He was upset, and angry, and suddenly he pulled me into a doorway and kissed me.” John smiled at the memory, first tears escaping his eyes. “Oh God, I was so happy. So fucking happy. We both were. He was my first boyfriend, and I wanted to shout it from the rooftops, but we both knew we couldn’t. We hid ourselves. We were already friends so nobody asked questions when he spent time in my place or I at his. We could never hold hands or kiss in public, we could never say anything that even implied we were in love. And we were. We were so in love with each other.” Tears were now flowing out of John’s eyes. “Our secret, he called it that. Our wonderful secret. He said he wanted to get a tattoo of those words on his arm, so he would always remember what he had.” He wiped the tears away from his face. “We knew our time was limited, that I had only a contract for a few months before I would return to the States, and I had a job with the State Department waiting for me. We never talked about me leaving.”

“So you just fucking broke up and you came back?”

John shook his head.

“One day, a month before I was scheduled to leave, Amin said he would follow me. That he had already made arrangements to get a visa and a job overseas, he said he would come to the States as soon as possible and that we would be happy forever. We made plans that instant. An apartment together, maybe one day a house. A dog, he always wanted a dog. I would work for the State Department and he would get a job at a hospital. Such simple dreams. He…he said if one far day gay men can marry, he would make me his forever,” John whispered. “Then the day that I had to leave came. Amin brought me to the airport, and we couldn’t even kiss goodbye. We hugged, like friends do, and we both cried. It would be months until we could see each other again, and he told me that he will be home soon. Home.” John let out a laugh. “When I got back on US soil, I went to see my parents, I wanted to tell them about how happy I was, I told them I met someone, that I loved him and that we had plans for a future together. My parents are conservative, not terribly so, but not very liberal. My mom was disappointed and cried. My dad, he yelled at me that he was ashamed of me and that he had no longer a son. I knew he did not mean it, it still broke my heart. The only thing keeping me going was that Amin would come soon,” he swallowed and Nigel sensed that he tried to calm his nerves. “And then, the day his flight arrived, I was at the airport. God, I was so excited. So happy. I stood there for hours. For more hours after everyone else had left. He did not come.”

A sob left his throat, tears streaming down his face, the memory of the humiliation and disappointment he felt that day too much, and still the worst was yet to come. Nigel rubbed his shoulder and pulled him back, knowing he needed to be close to someone now. Instinctively, John leaned his head against his shoulder and Nigel turned his head to bury his nose in his hair.

“Fucker dumped you,” Nigel murmured. “He doesn’t deserve your tears.”

“He didn’t;” John only said and needed another moment before he could continue. “If he just had dumped me, I would have survived. I knew something was wrong. There was no hint that he had doubts, that he questioned his decision, he had written me just a day before that he had packed and was happy to see me again, to hold and kiss me again, to make love to me again. It made no sense. I freaked out and made phone calls, wrote emails, but I got no answer. I called his parents, but they hang up on me. Then, I reached his sister, and she only told me that it was all my fault and hung up too,” John was openly crying now. “I started to use the contacts I had made at work, every resource I could find. And some guy I worked with knew someone with the CIA and…,” his voice broke. “He got me a file, and when he handed it to me, he warned me to not look into it and just let it go.”

“But you did.”

John nodded.

“I had to know,” he whispered. “I had to know why Amin left me. If he used me. If he was a spy. A terrorist. Anything…anything would have been okay…but…the file…it was a police report from the NAJA, the Irani law enforcement. I…”

Nigel kissed his hair, wanting him to stop and still knowing that John finally, after many years of holding it back, had to let this out, feeling terror rise in himself, the hunch of something that was strong enough to change the man John should have been, to kill the spark in his eyes and make him cold and unable to love.

“He went to say goodbye to his family,” he said. “His sister reported that he went to his parents and family and told them the truth. That he was not only leaving for a job in the United States, but that he was going to live with me, that he had found the love of his life and that he wanted them to be happy for him, for us. A fight broke out, something aggressive and physical. The report said that Amin threw the first punch, but I knew him. He was the most not violent person I ever met. They accused him of being an animal. Of having no honor. Of having brought shame over his whole family. And then...” More sobs broke free. “They dragged him into the courtyard. Somebody threw the first stone.”

Nigel stopped breathing. Dreadful realization overcoming him.

“They killed him,” John said, trying to force his voice to be cold and reserved, trying to be strong. “There were photos. They broke every bone in his body, he suffered for hours, begging for his life. They…they slaughtered him because he loved me. Because he loved me.”

He cried in heavy sobs, snot and tears mixing on his face and he did not care anymore. The memory of the man he had loved, that still held his heart from his grave, it was too much. He sniffed and let the tears flow freely, while Nigel pulled him tight into his arms, stroking his hair and shoulders, trying to soothe him, trying to calm him and still wanting him to let it all out. John’s breathing hitched and he could not stop sobbing into Nigel’s shirt, a hand holding onto the fabric like the saving anchor that the man had become.

It took a few minutes before John’s sobs ebbed slowly away and he sat back up, the eyes looking even clearer now. He wiped the tears covering his face away and looked at Nigel, who touched his face with an expression he could not put into words. John was looking for judgment. For pity. For disgust. But the only things he found were something gentle, something affectionate.

“I had a nervous breakdown, was hospitalized for a few weeks. My parents came and took care of me,” he said. “I wish they could have met him, could have loved him. I can’t stop thinking that part of them is happy about what happened.”

Nigel shook his head.

“I don’t fucking believe that,” Nigel said. “They love you.”

“They couldn’t love me then. It doesn’t matter anymore. He’s gone.”

Nigel tilted his head to the side, his jaw shifting a little, that cute gesture that John had grown fond of.

“He’s here with you,” Nigel said, putting a hand to John’s chest. “He’ll always be with you. You only have to allow it. Wish I could’ve met him, sounds like he was a great guy.”

John laughed shortly.

“You would have been at each other’s throats,” he said. “Total opposites. You saw a picture of him actually.”

Nigel frowned.

“One of the photos in my office. Younger me and a man in the desert, in front of a jeep. You took the frame up and looked at it.”

The Romanian nodded.

“I remember,” he said. “Handsome man, you made a fucking cute couple.”

John’s smile was hesitant and filled with pain.

“I need to tell you something, but I don’t want you to get it wrong,” Nigel said. “I can’t be sad that he’s gone.”

John’s heart stopped.

“Wha…,” he started, but Nigel put a finger to his lips and stopped him.

“You would have never cheated on him. I would have never met you if he was still here,” Nigel said. “Without him, I got the chance to know you.”

John whimpered and again tears fell from his eyes, but a smile appeared on his lips.

“You’re right about that,” he agreed and wiped again tears from his face. “And now I’m getting married to Lisa. In...,” he looked at the clock at the wall. “God. In seven hours.”

Nigel nodded and watched how John got up, drying his hands on his trousers. He went to the bedroom and when he returned, he had put his shoes on and was carrying his jacket in his hands.

“Take care of Tess, will you?” John asked him. “Tell her that I want her to fall in love and get happy.”

“I will do that,” Nigel said, not getting up from his seat, not sure if his legs would carry him and understanding that John was fleeing from being close to him. “You’re leaving.”

John nodded slowly.

“I don’t want you to think that last night was a fucking mistake,” Nigel said.

John looked at him. A genuine smile, one like Nigel had not seen on him before, appeared.

“I don’t,” he said. “I will always remember this night, Nigel. I will always remember you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry...
> 
> If you want to imagine Amin visually, think of Oscar Isaac in Inside Llewyn Davis.
> 
> I am aware that Irani people are not homophobic murderers, this is fiction and part of the story. It could have happened in any other country of the world as well, but here it made sense to explain why John turned out to have racist tendencies.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding...or maybe not?

John sat on the edge of the bed he had been sharing with Lisa for the past years, adjusting his cufflinks after having tied the laces of his shoes.

After what he had told Nigel, he felt free, like a heavy burden had dropped from his shoulders. Some of the tension he was always carrying around was gone, and a part of him felt like he was able to breathe easier now. Looking into the large dressing mirror that usually Lisa used to check out her outfits, he saw a man that had changed overnight. The darkness in his eyes was now only a cloud and not an abyss of night. His face looked not stern, he looked relaxed and when he noticed the small hickey that was visible over the edge of his collar, he smiled, and also his smile was suddenly genuine, He smiled at the memory of the man who had sucked his hickey into his skin, the man who he had allowed to come so close, closer than every other person he had ever been with. He had never had sex without protection. Never. Not even with Lisa, not with Amin. It had only been Nigel he had wanted to feel this intimately, and he hated that he would never feel that again. But he had made a decision. He would not cheat on Lisa as soon as he was married to her, and he knew that, despite everything that Nigel was capable of, the Romanian criminal would not furthermore force him.

This last time, this was it.

John pressed his lips together.

The thought of never seeing Nigel again, it felt unreal.

He closed his eyes for a moment and forced the thought away, then turned to the side and picked the gray waistcoat up and put it on, then the blue jacket. Again, he checked his reflection in the mirror. The oddly shimmering suit looked without a doubt handsome on him, even if it did not bring out his best assets. It did not make his waist look smaller, did not show off his toned legs. It was a generic cut like thousands of grooms wore, but it was not him. He sighed a little, and smoothed down the jacket at the front, touching casually his chest and he winced a little. His nipples rubbing against the fabric were still sensitive, another memory of last night. He would for a few days feel Nigel’s hands and lips on his skin, and the gentle soreness of his ass assured him that the memory of their last night was still also a physical memory to him.

He smirked at himself and with another adjustment of the cufflinks, a gift from his parents, he left the bedroom and went into the living room.

Checking his watch he noticed that it was still a few more minutes until Brian would pick him up and escort him to his wedding. He considered to just go downstairs already, but just as he was starting to leave the room, his eyes fell onto a wooden box that was stored away in one of the living room cabinets.

He had not looked into the box for years, had always avoided it, and had told Lisa only that he had lost the key for it. She had only agreed to keep it because it was quite decorative with the carved, filigree ornaments on the surface, but the small key to it had always been on John’s keychain.

John fished the keys out of his pocket and took the box and sat down on the couch, opening the lock but not yet the lid. He hesitated for a moment, but then he pulled it open and looked at the things he had put into it, reaching out for the first item.

A little stone. A stone with a smooth surface, washed by wind and sand, a stone he had found in the desert, together with Amin, on their first excursion thereafter they had become a couple. Amin had owned a similar one, and they had said the stones would be reunited the day they would reunite. There was a clause in his last will that he wanted to be buried with this stone, which nobody would understand but himself. Once he had dreamed of meeting Amin again in the next world, something he did not even believe in, and they had both held their stones in their hands. Stupid really, and so fucking sentimental.

The next things he pulled out were a staple of letters, all written by Amin, one that he had written himself and never sent, after he had learned of his lover’s death, telling about his emotions, his pain, his struggle to survive on his own.

Then there were photos, of Amin, of him, of them together. He looked at the photos of that beautiful face of the men he would always love, a love he would take to his grave one day. Amin smiled on most of those pictures, but still the picture he loved the most was one he had taken without Amin noticing. He had sat, legs pulled up, on the windowsill in his apartment, looking outside the window and over the rooftops of Tehran. The morning light painted soft highlights on his face, the hair mussed and the eyes melancholy and lost in thought. So beautiful, so sad. Later, Amin had told him that had been the moment he had decided that he would follow John to the States. Then, he had thought this the happiest moment of his life, the decision for their life together, now, John knew this moment had been Amin’s death sentence.

“I miss you,” John told the photo, imagining how Amin would look at him and start to smile. “I love you. I’ll always love you, aziz-am. I wish it was you today. I wish…”

His thoughts were interrupted when the doorbell rang and he put quickly all the things away and the box back into the shelf, hurrying down to the parking lot, where he found Brian and his husband Nick standing by their car, a silver SUV, talking to each other, or more Nick doing the talking while Brian looked fondly at the smaller man and smiled softly. Was this the look of true love? Had he looked the same way at Amin? He for sure was not looking like that at Lisa, but… He shrugged the thought away when the two men turned their attention to him and both smiled.

“You look awesome,” Nick said and went to give him a hug, even though they only met once before. “Congratulations.”

Nick frowned.

“Should I congratulate you? You look like someone ran over your dog.”

John blinked at him, noticing how Brian rolled his eyes at Nick’s honestly.

“Nerves, I guess,” he said. “And thank you. So, are you guys ready?”

Nick grinned.

“The question is, are you ready?” Brian now asked.

“As ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s go.”

He took the place next to Brian who was driving while Nick went to sit on the backseat. All three remained silent for a few minutes, John looking out of the window, tapping his fingers on his leg, showing more and more of him being a nervous wreck.

After a few minutes, Nick leaned forward and stuck his head in the space between the two front seats.

“I…,” he started.

“Safety belt,” Brian only said.

“Ah shush,” Nick meant. “Did you know that…Is that a hickey?”

John’s head turned and his hand moved immediately to his collar, trying to pull the fabric over the spot.

“Oh my God, it is? You naughty boy, you! Lisa doesn’t look like a leech though.”

John saw the young man frown.

“Lisa?” He heard himself ask and he almost face-palmed himself.

Nick stared at him and even Brian’s eyes left the road for a moment to look at him.

“You are a naughty boy,” Nick laughed. “What the fuck, John!”

“I…uhm…,” John started. “I don’t really know…”

“Oh I think you know very well. Did you order yourself some entertainment last night, last night in freedom or something like that?”

John frowned.

“What?”

“Oh my God, John, did you hire a bunch of call girls last night, or what? C’mon, let us have a part in your naughty adventures. Married life is so boring.”

Brian looked at his husband in the mirror.

“I show you our boring married life tonight, you fucking twink.”

“Did you just call me a twink?”

“Sure did.”

“Asshole.”

“I’m making a hard guess and say it’s your asshole that is going to be taken care of tonight.”

John looked from one man to the other, noticing how comfortable they felt in his presence, not stopping the bickering that seemed to be a part of them. He and Amin had never bickered like that, he and Nigel though…

He looked at his hands.

“So…,” Nick said again, tapping his shoulder with a hand. “Call girls?”

“What?” He asked, pulled from his thoughts again. “No. No call girls. It’s complicated.”

Nick looked at him a little surprised, but then in thought.

“Wanna talk about it?”

John shook his head no.

“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m getting married today. It’s…it is complicated.”

“John?” Nick asked, his voice no longer amused but with a hint of worry. “Are you okay?”

For seconds, John could not answer, but then he smiled hesitantly.

“Yes, I’m okay.”

Nick nodded and sat back in his seat, buckling the safety belt, but now it was Brian who looked at his co-worker and now friend. The tall man did not say anything, but he nodded slowly, understanding without words needed and accepting that John had made a decision.

The rest of their drive, Nick talked about their neighbors who had just gotten a baby – in Nick’s words the ugliest child he had ever seen – and John was informed that Brian and Nick were trying to adopt but met obstacles for being a same-sex couple. John told them that he knew someone who might be able to pull a few strings and would give her a call as soon as he could, and Nick beamed at him, while Brian’s eyes seemed to be a little wet at his words, never having expected that John really saw him as a friend he would do something like that for them.

Half an hour before the ceremony started, they arrived at the venue where his wedding would take place, a modern chapel that was large enough to hold all the important and respected people that Lisa invited and would be good for John’s career, and he went to greet his parents, introducing Brian and Nick to them, realizing that these four people were the only that mattered today to him, and he was a little worried about his parents’ reaction to the gay couple. But his mother gave both a smiling hug, complimenting Brian’s muscles and making him blush, and telling Nick that his dark blue suit was beautiful on him and making him smile brightly. His dad, he looked first at both men with something John did not understand right away, but then he realized it was curiosity, and he gave Nick a half-hug and shook Brian’s hand, a little intimidated by his size and smiled at both. His parents had changed and they had no longer reservations about two gay men in a relationship, they inquired how long they had been married and Nick told them that they were a couple for five years and had married three years ago, told them about their plans to have children soon, and that he was working in the costume department of a theater, which especially was interesting to his mother and she and Nick immediately became best buddies, making the other three men stare at them with gentle smiles.

“So, nervous?” John’s dad asked and Brian grinned at him.

“He’s a wreck,” he answered for him.

His father looked at him and saw John’s smile to be hesitant and a little insecure.

A bit later, after a casual chat, John went to greet a few more guests and then made his way to the place where he would wait for his bride to arrive, close to the altar, still talking to Brian and getting ready. Only a few minutes more and he would be a married man. He tried to imagine himself in the years to come, and it still felt unreal.

“John,” someone said from his side, and he recognized one of Lisa’s cousins. “Can you come with me for a moment, the governor would like to talk to you.”

John frowned and then nodded towards Brian, following the other man he had met only one time before into one of the backrooms of the chapel, where the governor and Lisa were waiting for him. The frown on his face grew deeper, seeing how Lisa had crossed her arms and wore a pouting expression and the governor had taken a seat on one of the chairs, having crossed his legs casually.

Lisa looked as beautiful as ever, the perfect bride in a marshmallow dress that sparkled with uncountable little crystals that were sewn into the shimmering fabric. Her hair was pulled up in cascades of curls and there too little crystals reflected the light.

John raised a brow.

“What is this about?” He asked, noticing how his voice sounded annoyed at the interruption of today’s schedule.

“What are you thinking?” Hamilton asked him, eyes cold and calculating.

John’s expression was questioning and went from the man to Lisa and back to her father.

“Care to explain what you are talking about?”

There was the thought that they had found out about Nigel. Found out about his past. And still he smiled.

“Bringing that abomination here?”

A line appeared between John’s brows, his eyes turning into slits.

“I have no fucking idea what you are talking about.”

Lisa to his right huffed.

“You know exactly what he is talking about,” she hissed. “I told you at the rehearsal that you can’t have that as a best man.”

John’s brows shot up.

“You…you’re talking about Brian? What the fuck?”

“Watch your tongue, young man,” the governor said in a chastising way. “We are a godfearing family that holds onto family values. That out there, is against everything I am standing for.”

“Then you may should overthink your position, governor. Brian has turned out to be the best friend I have had in a while, and I call myself very lucky to have him at my side. I really don’t give a shit who he fucks, besides, he is a married man.”

“There is only the marriage between a man and a woman,” Lisa said. “That is wrong, and you know it.”

John stared at Lisa, suddenly seeing her in a different light. Seeing the disgust in her eyes, the lack of anything making her capable to feel.

“Wrong?” John snapped back. “You are talking about two people who love each other and vowed to spend their lives together. What about that could be wrong? Care to explain, Lise?”

“Alone the thought of them…,” she shuddered. “I don’t want that at my wedding. I want you to send them away. My cousin will be your best man.”

“Your cousin,” John said blankly.

“Yes. My cousin Stephen.”

“Your cousin Stephen, who had been accused of raping a girl in college.”

“He was cleared of that accusation.”

“He said he did it!” John said, his voice getting louder in annoyance.

The governor stared at him, only now John noticed how the man had no emotion in his face, no love, no tenderness, no kindness. Only ice-cold calculation. Did he look like that too? Were his eyes just as empty? Was this what he was turning into?

“You send them away,” his future father-in-law said, still not showing any emotion while his voice left no doubt that this was his final word. “Or your visits to a brothel called Splendid will make their way to the press. That would not be good for your career, John.”

John looked at him.

They knew.

They knew about Nigel.

The thought of Nigel’s business being in danger, of the man that had been his lover being in danger, crossed his mind.

“My son-in-law visiting whores,” the governor snarled. “Disgusting.”

John laughed. He could not help it. They thought he went there to fuck the girls.

Still laughing at the other’s surprise, he rubbed his face.

“I don’t see how that is funny to you.”

John chuckled.

“Oh, I can assure you, it is,” he said. “How about Lisa’s past drug habits, or her three abortions make it to the press too, or her college spring break when she had been the center of a very explicit gang bang?” He turned to Lisa. “I bet it felt good being fucked by all those strangers, covered in cum and piss.” He turned back at the governor. “How about the two secretaries you impregnated? Isn’t there a disabled child you are too ashamed of to accept as your own hidden somewhere in an asylum? I know you think you bought all proof of that. You are wrong about that, Sir.” He looked at the pale Lisa, who stared at him open-mouthed, not having expected that he knew anything about those things. “You should think first about who you threaten.”

He turned and pulled the cravat off his neck.

There was something dropping off his shoulders, and suddenly, he did not feel like John Zabel anymore, presidential advisor, racist asshole, slimy fucker who had only his career on his mind. He felt like John. Just John.

He went to open the door and leave, but turned around and looked at the two pale faces behind him.

“You know what they say about it being bad luck to see the bride before the wedding?” He asked. “Seems they are right.”

And with those words he left.

Brian looked at him in worry when he returned to the chapel, noticing that his cravat was gone but also saw the bit of a smile that he was wearing instead. Nick and his parents in the front row were looking at him as well, when he took a place in front of the altar.

“Thank you all for coming,” he said loudly so everyone could hear them. “I have an announcement to make. I’ll make it short. This wedding is off.”

Everyone was staring at him, then whispers started.

His parents and Nick were immediately on their feet, rushing to his side.

“OH my fucking God, thank God,” Nick said and hugged him. “Now go, get him.”

John looked at him in surprise.

“How?” He only asked.

“Got a fucking precise gaydar, luv,” he said. “And your mom told me that you were only once happy before when you were with your boyfriend. There is someone else, isn’t there?”

John nodded, looking with uncertainty at his parents, but both smiled, his dad nodded.

“If there is someone with the power to bring our Johnny back, I don’t give a shit who he is. If he makes you happy, get him, John. Get him.”

John felt the sting of tears in his eyes and smiled at the people that were his family, his friends.

Brian put his keys into his hand and when John looked up at him, he gave him a nod.

“Go,” the tall man only said. “Go!”

John smiled, nodded again.

“I…,” he started.

“GO!” All four said in unison and with a chuckled John turned and started to run outside.

He found Brian’s car and got behind the steering wheel, adjusting the seat and pulled out of the parking lot.

He was free.

And then, he was not.

He was driving for a while, his thoughts a mess, circling around what would happen now. His career was most likely over, but he could always work as a translator, as a teacher, as something, whatever fate and life brought his way.

But what if Nigel did not want him? What if he had only been an affair for him, something to play with, what if he read all the signs wrong?

No.

That was not possible. Nigel was…he was everything. His new everything. He was laughter and bickering and comfort. He was… John smiled at the memory of the soft smiles Nigel had given him, the way he touched him. The way they had fucked that last time they had been together, the moment he had almost kissed him, the words gently spoken.

Nigel.

John pulled his phone out and scrolled with one hand through his contacts and then dialed the number of an acquaintance from the Office of Central European Affairs. After the fourth ring the call was answered.

“Kelly?” The person on the other end said.

“Jeff, hey. It’s John Zabel,” he said. “How are you?”

“I’m great, thanks, John,” Jeff said. “Haven’t heard from you in a while. What can I do for you?”

John pulled into the next street.

“I’m not sure I remember it right, but weren’t you a few years ago assigned to the embassy in Bucharest?”

“Yes, that’s right. What about that?”

“Do you speak any Romanian?”

“I do, yes,” came the reply.

“Okay,” John avoided collision with another car, going way too fast. “Can you translate something from me, I hope I remember the words right.”

“Of course. Tell me.”

John licked his lips, trying to remember the right words.

“Okay. God, I’m not completely sure I got that right, forgive me my pronunciation…Nu vreau să te pierd. Fii al meu. Te rog. Nu mă pot îndrăgosti de tine.”

“Pretty good pronunciation,” Jeff laughed. “Wow. That is…I didn’t expect that, I thought this is about politics. You sure?”

“Jeff. Tell me, even if it’s something bad.”

“It’s not,” Jeff said. “That means…I don't want to lose you. Be mine. Please. I can't fall in love with you."

John stopped breathing.

Those words. He remembered the way Nigel had sounded, scared, his breath hitching. He had been scared of rejection, had not wanted to feel anything for a man he knew would leave him the next day. He had been fighting what was between them.

He felt a tear run down his face.

Nigel had been falling in love with him.

“Thank you, Jeff,” he said. “I have one more favor to ask…”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Half an hour later, he was pulling into the industrial area where the Splendid was located and a minute later into the street. He still felt unsure of what to do, unsure what would await him, what the reaction would be, but he was ready to go for broke. He was ready to lose this game if that was what fate had in store for him, but at least he was ready to try.

He parked Brian’s SUV on the other side of the street and got out, and then he saw them.

Darko and Nigel were outside the club, and they were arguing.

He slowly crossed the street and waited in a short distance, suddenly feeling insecure if he should disturb them in their argument. Probably something about business that he should better not interfere with.

Again, he saw how handsome Nigel was in a dark short-sleeved shirt that showed off his arms, and dark pants, the silver hair soft and shining in the sunlight.

The two men were so involved in their argument that they did not see John approaching them slowly.

“Give me my fucking keys, or I’ll fucking kill you in your sleep, asshole,” Nigel snarled, holding out his hand, but Darko had his arms crossed.

“I will not let you run into that shitshow, Nigel,” the other said. “You can’t do that. Accept it. He’s getting married today, you’re too late. I’m not allowing you another disaster like you went through with Gabi.”

John froze.

They were arguing about him. They were arguing about Nigel wanting to go to stop the wedding? Did he understand that right?

Nigel made a threatening step forward, but Darko, knowing his friend, did not back away.

“Not if I stop him,” he growled. “Keys.”

“Not as long as there is a heartbeat in me.”

“That can be fucking changed. Give. Me. My. Keys.”

“No.”

“Darko,” Nigel said, growing angrier and angrier, both hands balled into fists and ready to throw them at his friend who was interfering with his plans. “Keys. Now.”

“Hey, Nigel,” John said behind him and Darko stared at him over Nigel’s shoulder, surprised, shocked, now making a step back and giving Nigel and John space.

“Not now!” Nigel yelled without turning around. “Give me my fucking keys. I need to go there and stop him, don’t you fucking understand? I…”

“Nigel,” John said, smirking. “Nigel!”

Nigel turned around, a dangerous snarl on his face.

“I said, not now…,” he hissed, then he blinked. “John?”

“Hey, Nigel.”

Nigel looked at him, unable to move, unable to say anything until he seemed to shrug off the initial shock of seeing John there.

“The fuck are you doing here?” He asked, trying to sound annoyed but not able to hide the hope in his voice. “You’re getting married today. Shouldn’t you be in a fucking church or something?”

“I should be,” John agreed. “Looks like the wedding is off.”

Nigel searched for something in John’s eyes.

“I canceled it,” John explained before Nigel could make the wrong assumptions. “I can’t marry someone I will never love.”

Nigel continued to just stare.

“You were right,” John continued. “You were right, you know? Amin will always be in my heart, but there is space for someone else, I only did not understand that Amin would want that for me. That I want that for me. To feel like that again. To be happy and to…yeah, well…to fall in love again.”

Nigel swallowed, wetting his lips, shifting his jaw.

“You said you’d never love again,” he almost whispered, remembering John’s words that last night.

John gave a nod.

“Yes. It looks like I was wrong. I will love again. I actually am in love.”

Nigel nodded in understanding, or so it seemed. That there was sadness in his eyes did though not make sense to John, until Nigel said something else.

“So you will wait with the wedding until you are fucking sure of your feelings, or what?”

John’s eyes widened.

“What?” He asked. “No. God no. The wedding is not postponed, Nigel. It is canceled. I will not marry Lisa, ever.” He took a deep breath. „Eu sunt a ta dacă vrei tu. Sunt indrăgostită de tine," John said the words that Jeff had translated for him earlier, his smile uncertain, waiting for Nigel’s reaction.

Nigel’s eyes widened.

He blinked at the other man and swallowed again.

“What the fuck?” He then whispered. “Are you serious?”

John nodded.

“I am,” he said, his smile genuine. Real. Completely John. “I am serious.”

Nigel returned the nod.

“You are fucking serious,” he whispered, taking a step towards John.

John smiled wider.

“I am fucking serious,” he gave back, making himself a step closer to Nigel, standing now so close in front of him that he had to tilt his head up to look at him, their chests almost touching. “I’m fucking serious about this. If you’ll have me.”

Nigel’s hand went up, touching John’s bearded cheek with hesitation, not quite able that this was truly real.

There were tears in both men’s eyes.

“I’ll always have you, gorgeous,” Nigel whispered.

Tears that started to freely flow when Nigel now lowered his head, and for the first time John did not pull away and their lips met in a gentle and intimate kiss that left no doubt about both men’s emotions.


	15. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the end. 
> 
> Thank you for taking part in the ride. I had lots and lots of fun (and some tears) writing this, and I really hope you enjoyed the ride as much as I did!!! 
> 
> Off to new adventures!!! Love you all!!!!!

**_One year later_ **

David Wellington had never set foot into the Brink’s before, but this day he had agreed to meet for drinks with two colleagues after work, and to his surprise, the usual shit show that Hayes was causing these days had ended earlier than he had expected and he was able to make it in time.

The pub was nicer than he had thought it would be, in nice muted colors and warm woods, but when he scanned the faces around, he found the two people he was supposed to meet not yet being there.

Since none of the tables were empty, he decided for the bar and took a seat on one of the stools there and waited for the bartender to notice him and turn to him with a smile.

“Hey,” the young man said. “What can I get you?”

Wellington considered his options for a moment.

“Give me a beer you have on tap. Lager if possible,” he said, and the bartender gave him a nod and went to fix his drink.

Unsure on what to do, Wellington shifted a little on his stool and started to look at the people that were guests in the pub this early evening, engaged in chatter and laughter, friends and coworkers meeting for drinks and the food that the place had to offer.

At a table close to him was a young couple who were very obviously arguing. The woman, pretty and blonde, looked upset and the face an angry mask, while the man sitting opposite her had the body language of someone who was defensive. There was no question who was the dominant part of that relationship. Wellington felt pity for the young man who was clearly suffocated by a woman who was overpowering him.

At the table next to theirs was a group of people who he had seen in one of the government offices. Analysts, if he remembered right. Two of the four men were already a little red-faced and the assortment of empty beer bottles on the table made very clear that they had been drinking a little too much already. Still, they laughed together and seemed relaxed and like they were having fun.

In a booth at the right wall were two women and a man, talking to each other, exchanging words and looking always with interest at the one who was talking at a time. Co-workers probably, or friends, who were exchanging opinions on something. They were either agreeing with each other, or at least treating each other’s opinions with respect.

Two young women, almost girls, and he doubted that there were legal to have alcoholic drinks yet, at a table were looking at a man sitting with friends in a booth, eyeing him with the clear signs of desire in their eyes. They were whispering to each other, giggling like the girls they were, and then whispered more, never leaving the man out of their sight.

Wellington’s eyes wandered to the booth that man was sitting in with three more men. He was huge, had the build of a bodybuilder, but a handsome face with gentle dark eyes, and he looked a little demure, while the other three were laughing at something he had just told them. A smaller man right next to him, dark short hair and a boyish face, had put a hand to the handsome man’s arm and was looking at him fondly. The look they exchanged was tender and intimate and Wellington tilted his head a little to the side. A couple then. He smiled, liking how natural it had become for gay couples to exchange PDA without being harassed, at least most of the time. He tried to put the taller man’s face somewhere, but the stressful day was messing with his memory.

He looked at that other two men with them at the table, both laughing as well.

One of the men was a little older, had silver-streaked hair that looked soft and smooth. His face was uniquely handsome, with something exotic, unusual about him. The eyes were dark, but when the light reflected in them, he saw golden flecks. He wore a dark shirt and a brown leather jacket above, there was a tattoo on the left side of his neck, giving him a certain edge. He had tanned skin like he had spent much time in the sun, sharp cheekbones and wore a dusting of gray and brown stubble on his face. He looked intriguing, fascinating, and he had his eyes on the fourth man at the table.

Wellington frowned.

He knew this man, and still it took him a moment to recognize him.

Gone was the full beard and had been replaced with something much shorter, a short bear that was hugging and complimenting the almost pretty face of the man who had been his opponent numerous times, before he had suddenly vanished from his job. The hair was even shorter, almost a buzz cut. He wore a black shirt that was opened wide enough to show off his tanned collar bones and his neck. He had seen this man stern, without emotion, manipulative and ice cold. This man, he laughed a full belly laugh, holding his chest and the head tilted back, eyes closed and crinkling at the corners. He looked relaxed, at ease. He looked happy.

What the fuck had happened to John fucking Zabel?

He only heard about the scandal he had caused when he had called off his wedding to Governor Hamilton's daughter, and shortly after he had quit his job and cleared his office and nobody had ever heard from him again. Now Wellington remembered who the other man was. Brian Nichols, who had been a colleague of John’s.

John looked at the silver-haired man and smiled at him. It was an intimate look the two men exchanged, then the older man said something that made John roll his eyes and then he got up and moved past him, touching casually his shoulder and made his way to the bar.

“Hey,” John told the bartender, who turned towards him, while Wellington took a sip of his cold beer. “Can we have the bill?”

“Sure,” the bartender said. “Give me a moment.”

John nodded and leaned against the counter, waiting, and then he noticed Wellington who was standing right next to him.

“David,” he said with an honest smile. “How are you doing? Haven’t seen you in ages.”

Wellington nodded.

“John. I’m doing good, how about you? I heard you left the State Department?”

John shrugged.

“I did, yeah. Almost a year ago.”

The older man did not know what to say for a moment, curious about what happened but uncertain if he was in a place to ask.

“Do you come here often?” John asked then, breaking the awkward silence.

“Actually no,” he replied. “I meet with two of my staff here for drinks, but they are not here yet.”

John grinned.

“Hayes still getting on your nerves?”

“You know very well that I’m in no position to talk about the president,” Wellington said, making John roll his eyes.

“Do you come here regularly?”

John shook his head.

“Now and then. I meet with Brian here for drinks sometimes, but most of the time, he and his husband come to our place instead.”

“I didn’t know you were friends with Brian.”

“Oh we are, he was the best man at my wedding, and I’m the godfather of their daughter, cute little doll. We only came back two days ago from our honeymoon and were catching up with them,” John said and looked up when the bartender returned with the bill.

John took the bill and looked at it and pulled his wallet out, putting a few banknotes onto the counter.

“Honeymoon?” Wellington asked surprised.

“Yeah, got finally hitched two weeks ago,” he said, raising his left hand and showing the simple gold band he was wearing on his ring finger.

The smile that John showed was that of a happy man, soft and filled with love. He turned and the smile turned into something even more at the sight of the man that had approached them without making a sound and now put a hand to John’s shoulder.

“You ready to leave, gorgeous?”

John nodded.

“Just paid,” he said. “I’m ready.”

“David,” he said and winked. “It was good seeing you. I hope we can catch up one day.”

Welling had slipped from his stool and was offering a hand to shake to John, who took it, before he turned to the stranger and offered his hand to him as well. The man eyed the hand with suspicion for a moment and then took it, gave him a confident and firm shake, holding the hand though for a moment too long, eyes on him and assessing him like a predator would asses it’s prey.

“David Wellington,” he introduced himself.

The stranger nodded, still checking Wellington out.

“Nigel Ibanescu,” he then said, the voice thick with a Slavic accent. “Nice to fucking meet you.”

“Nigel,” John laughed at his side. “Behave. David and I used to work together.”

“Goodbye, David,” Ibanescu said and allowed John to drag him away, still laughing and moving to the table where Brian and the man who had to be his husband were getting ready to leave.

Wellington watched the men hug and then leave the pub together. Odd.

Outside, Nigel lit a cigarette while John watched Brian and Nick go arm in arm towards their car.

“Was that necessary?” He then asked.

Nigel raised a brow, blowing out smoke into the air.

“What are you talking about?”

“You threatened him.”

“I did no such fucking thing.”

John stared at him without words and then shook his head.

“Keys. I’m driving.”

“You ducking don’t. You drive like you have a death wish.”

“And you had drinks, while I stuck to non-alcoholic beverages, my dear. So, keys.”

Nigel huffed and pulled the keys from his jacket pockets and handed them over to John, walking at his side to the black car they owned and took place in the passenger’s seat.

John noticed that he was being watched when he got behind the steering wheel and started the engine. He turned and looked at his husband, who was looking at him as well.

“Is something wrong?”

Nigel shook his head and reached out to take John’s hand into his, raising it to his lips and kissing the back of his hand, then turning it to look at the inside of this wrist, where the tattoo he had encouraged was visible under the edge of the shirt sleeve. Farsi letters, beautifully crafted. Even though he was not able to read it, he knew what those letters meant.

_Our wonderful secret._

He pressed a kiss onto the lettering that was an always reminder to John that Amin would stay a part of him and of their lives forever, and sometimes, just sometimes, Nigel felt a sting of jealousy.

But then he remembered that he was the one making John smile, moan, scream, made him upset and angry.

He was the one making John happy.

He was the one who had reignited the spark in his eyes, no longer dead and empty but now again filled with mischief and spirit.

But still, there was this part that he would never own.

“You know, gorgeous,” he said, eyes on the letters. “I know I will never have you completely, but I’m a happy man having a piece of you.”

John put a finger under his chin and made him look into his eyes.

“I love you, gorgeous,” he said.

John smiled. His smile beaming and filled with happiness.

“Te iubesc,” John replied, leaning over to welcome the kiss that Nigel’s soft lips were offering to him, their tongues meeting gently. “There is no part of me that is not yours. Te iubesc.”

He kissed Nigel again, moaning into the caress of his lips on his, tasting the beer that Nigel had drunk, the cigarette, and everything that he needed to survive. His husband. The love of his life.

“Nigel,” he started. “You don’t have a piece of me. You have all of me. And I have all of you. Forever.”

**_The End_ **

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/RisingPhnx1
> 
> Tag "John is a such a little slutty slut for Nigel" courtesy of [CassieRaven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassieRaven)
> 
> Comments are very welcome! Tell me what you think!
> 
> English is not my first language, so there will be mistakes.


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